


The Lie of the Lone Wolf

by shadow_prince



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: ALL THE PINING CHARACTERS, Alternate Universe, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Regulus Black, Bisexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Demigod Marauders, Everyone Is Gay, First Meetings, Gay Character, Getting Together, Hints at parental emotional abuse, Lesbian Character, M/M, Marauders, Mystery, Nonbinary Character, Not Abandoned, OC nonbinary character, Pining, Poly Character, The Art of War, We Die Like Men, but nothing too heavy, hella gay, unbetad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-09-14 08:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16909812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_prince/pseuds/shadow_prince
Summary: Sirius knows all about the type associated with Athena. He watched it, after all, as his father drew her attention. Then again when his brother showed up on their doorstep, just a small bundle wrapped in a soft blanket, he raised Regulus as best he could. And he knows his brother loves him, but there’s still more Orion and Athena in him than Sirius.He has spent most of his life living year round at camp, and as the head counselor of Hermes cabin has too much on his plate with caring for his siblings to be bothered to work through his own emotional detachment. So with all of that in mind, why does he find himself completely distracted by a new camper who is entirely too intelligent and calculating to be anythingbuta child of Athena and hellbent on tearing down Sirius' carefully constructed walls?





	1. alpha

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a _I wonder who everyone's godly parent would be..._ and now we're here. BUCKLE UP!

_ For the strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack.  
The Law for the Wolves - Kipling _

 

⁂

 

Everyone is already sitting and eating breakfast (or, in Sirius’ case, using a slingshot to fling strawberries across the pavilion at the back of Regulus’ head where he’s deep in conversation at the Athena table) when a salpinx rings out, loud and clear from Half Blood Hill. Sirius and James are off the bench and racing toward the sound before anyone except the Ares kids have even comprehended. Naturally, they turn it into a race, shouting challenges and insults at one another as they weave around the arts and crafts cabin. Sirius leapfrogs over James as he sticks his leg out to try and trip him, looking over his shoulder and cackling as he takes the lead.

Children of Ares may be the first out of their seats at the sound of the war trumpet, but most of them lack the lithe burst of speed that the children of Hermes possess. And honestly, it would be an embarrassment as cabin leader if Sirius  _ wasn’t _ the first one to arrive. He doesn’t admit that he’s a little winded as he crests the hill - monster attacks have been infrequent and lacking in difficulty over the last year. Stopping between two archers, he braces his hands on his knees to catch his breath. 

“What have we got, Dorcas?”

“That new camper Chiron told us about. They hit some trouble as soon as they crossed into New York and have a whole host of monsters on their tail.”

“New camper?”

The girl levels a glare at him that would be much more convincing if it weren’t for the way her lips twitch in amusement. “Do you ever listen during head of cabin meetings? I swear it’s been the only thing he’s talked about for the last three weeks!” 

Settling in an easy crouch, Sirius taps his lips in mock contemplation. “Hmmm, was I by chance looking at Shacklebolt during said meetings?”

Dorcas nods.

“Yeah, then I wasn’t listening. We were arranging a trade deal in morse code.”

“Trading what?!”

“That’s classified.”

Rolling her eyes, she looks back out over the expanse below the hill. “They’re almost here.”

It never ceases to amaze him how far her hearing can reach. Dorcas holds the record at camp for longest time a demigod survived alone in the wilderness, having spent six years in the Appalachian Mountains. An accomplished huntress, she’s proficient with both her bow and the daggers Sirius knows are strapped to her ankles. When her satyr finally found her, it took quite a bit of convincing to bring her to Camp Half Blood, and no one was sure how long she would stay. Artemis has tried a number of times to convince her to join the Hunt as well, but surprising to everyone, she settled into camp life and has shown no signs of leaving, taking up the mantle of Apollo’s head counselor with ease.

Holding her bow between her knees, she reaches up, pulling her long braids back and securing them in a thick ponytail away from her face. High cheekbones and sharp features set in smooth ebony skin turned not a few heads at her arrival and in the years since. If she hadn’t been exceedingly proficient with bow and arrow, and possessing Apollo’s piercing blue eyes, Sirius would have thought her a daughter of Aphrodite. As it worked out though, she has been dating a daughter of Aphrodite for two years now.

“How many?”

Dorcas cocks her head to the side, but after several seconds, frowns and shakes her head. “I can’t tell, I can hear the camper and the Roman soldier with them, but whatever is chasing them… Either there are a lot of them, or something with a lot of legs.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Sirius sees the rest of the older campers from all cabins have gathered in loose clumps, ready for battle. He knows the youngest have been sent back to their cabins. This should be easy enough to handle, and they will more than outnumber their enemy, no need to risk the youngsters. 

Rising from his crouch, he strains to see more clearly the shadow rising in the distance. As if sensing their question, a giant eagle bearing the crest of the SPQR swoops down, dropping a spider leg longer than Sirius’ arm at his feet. The eagle wastes no time in circling around and shooting off toward its demigod again.

Spinning, Sirius frantically searches the crowd, his eyes landing on Regulus. “Children of Athena, fall back! Last line of defense, do not cross the magical barrier,” he shouts.

“Since when does Hermes cabin call the shots in battle?” a child of Ares yells back.

Sirius grinds his teeth, but is saved by Chiron galloping up the hill. He takes one look at the still twitching leg and nods. “Fall back. Do not crest the hill unless directed otherwise by myself or a head counselor.”

He can feel Regulus’ eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, but Sirius keeps his attention on the centaur next to him. If they are to face a swarm of Arachne’s children, Athena’s brood will be worse than useless. It is simply a strategy call - no one can accuse him of being overly protective of his brother. 

Chiron continues once Athena cabin has dropped back to form a loose line near the Big House; close enough to be in hearing distance but still out of sight of the battle. “Archers hold the hill. Everyone else-” he turns his gaze outward, where a lone shock of bright purple is now visible, standing out starkly against a sea of black, “attack.”

Demigods swarm over the hill with a great cry, celestial bronze gleaming in the morning sun. Sirius bends low, digging his feet into the grass, hands fisted as he leads the charge. The Roman and new camper continue running towards them, eagle covering their back and dive bombing the giant spiders hot on their tail. As the Greeks reach them, the Roman draws her spear, turning to stand her ground and whistling a command to her eagle. 

Sirius is surprised to see the camper is not a child, as he had assumed, but a boy his own age - practically a man. The boy turns, drawing a long staff from where it’s slung across his back, planting himself next to his guardian. As Sirius nears them, he hears the boy mutter something that he suspects might be “why’d it have to be spiders?”

Not slowing down, Sirius draws his pair of twin daggers from their sheaths, launching himself into the air as the first spider closes in on them with a shrill screech that leaves goosebumps crawling up his skin. He lands on the monsters back, both blades sinking through the exoskeleton with a sickening crunch. The spider wails, flailing in an attempt to dislodge Sirius, who clings to the hilts for dear life before throwing his body weight to the side and drawing the daggers down, until the monster bursts into a shower of golden dust. Sirius tumbles to the ground, brushing the powder off him as it rains down on his hair and shoulders.

“One down and… ten or so to go.” Throwing himself into a roll, a claw lands in the grass where he had been half a second before. A staff swings out, sweeping the spider’s legs in a single fluid motion before coming down on top of it with a crack. The spider lays, legs sprawled out, blinking in a daze, but doesn’t disintegrate. Lunging, Sirius stabs it in the head before it can regain its footing, and finally it dissolves into dust.

Around him the rest of the demigods are quickly felling the arachnids. Standing up straight, he looks over to the boy with the staff, noting up close the design. The shining wood is worn but well cared for, with engravings marking the entire length of it. Further from the center the engravings become accented with silver, until both tips which are encased in the metal.

Wiping monster guts from the blades of his daggers, Sirius resheathes them. Reaching out, he taps the silver. “That’s why it didn’t disintegrate. Need to get you something with celestial bronze.” 

He looks at his staff longingly, then back to the pile of golden dust, already beginning to swirl and disperse, back to Tartarus to reform. “I suppose if it means turning spiders to dust I could consider it.” His voice is deep and rhaspy, as if he isn’t used to using it often, and sends a bolt of heat directly to Sirius’ stomach.

Actually looking at the boy properly for the first time, Sirius swallows thickly. He inherited precisely two things from his mortal father: a great love and weakness for foreign languages and handsome men. Hopefully this guy can’t speak a foreign language, because Sirius is already  _ fucked. _

A sleeveless brown tunic falls to mid thigh over equally plain breeches (breeches!) with smart leather boots laced up tight, all of which are streaked in mud and grass. He is nearly as tall as Sirius, but with much broader chest and shoulders. While Sirius is tall but slight, perfect for stealth and shadows, this man is all muscle and sinewy strength. He stands at ease, one hand on his staff that is planted in the ground, one hip cocked out to the side watching Sirius as he surveys him.

Sirius holds out his hand. “Sirius, head counselor of Hermes cabin.”

A large hand envelopes his, warm and calloused beneath his palm. “Remus.”

“It’s good to have you, glad you made it safely.” An arm drops around Sirius shoulders, causing him to startle and release Remus’ hand as if he was electrocuted.

James is smiling at the other man. “What an entrance! Thanks for bringing the fight to us, it’s been too long.” His sword is back at his waist, but shield still on his arm. “Let’s head up to the Big House and check in with Chiron and then we’ll show you around camp?”

Remus inclines his head in acknowledgement, before turning and starting up Half Blood Hill, leaving Sirius to scramble behind him. His hair is a long tangled mess of brown curls and what appear to be stickler burrs, all held back in a knot of some sort. Whether the knot is intentional or not, Sirius can’t tell. Vaguely he wonders if Remus is used to the Roman public baths and if it would be weird to offer to wash and trim his hair for him. He’s pretty sure it would be weird. 

James elbows him hard in the ribs and Sirius shoots him a look. Unperturbed, James just wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. Maybe he should be more careful with the oogling. 


	2. beta

Chiron is waiting for them at the top of the hill and the Roman soldier falls in beside Remus again as they approach. She gives him a salute and her eagle settles on her shoulder. “Charlie Ventor, Third Cohort of the Twelfth Legion, and legacy of Mercury.”

The centaur looks torn between amusement and discomfort at the rigidity of her introduction. “Thank you for getting him here in once piece, we appreciate your service. Come and let us continue breakfast before we conduct any further discussions.”

Charlie falters, clearly thrown off balance by the casual way of the Greeks, but everyone else returns to the Mess Hall. Some strip off armor as they go, others sit down and pick up where they left off without even bothering. Sirius pauses next to Remus. “You can come eat at our table. Unless you know your godly parent?” When the boy shakes his head to indicate he does not, Sirius continues, “anyone who doesn’t know their parent sits at the Hermes table. God of travelers and all that, welcome to all.”

He shows him where to get food and the brazier to make an offering, and shoves James over to make room between them for Remus. 

It took Sirius a long time after joining the camp to get out of the habit of always using proper dinner etiquette at the table, complete with multiple sets of cutlery. His father is extremely particular and insists upon the most posh version of mannerisms. But even years at the camp can’t stop Sirius from cringing just a little bit when Remus eats everything with his hands. He isn’t  _ messy _ per se, in fact for using no cutlery at all he’s remarkably precise and tidy, but just watching it makes Sirius’  _ Orion sense  _ tingle with discomfort. 

Stealing a glance toward where Charlie is seated deep in conversation with Chiron, he notes her using a fork. That doesn’t mean that Romans don’t usually eat with their hands, but Sirius thinks this might be a Remus thing and not a Camp Jupiter thing.

On Remus’ other side James is deep in conversation, despite the fact that he receives very little from the boy, aside from acknowledgement. Not that James ever needs much to keep him talking. Sirius is staring absently into space when there’s a tap on his shoulder. He doesn’t need to look to know it’s Regulus, because James has stopped talking mid sentence.

Turning around, Sirius waits patiently for his brother to speak, knowing it takes him a while to find his words. Regulus shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably, eyes staring over Sirius’ head. “So, I overheard about the battle, and, ah-” he finally drops his eyes to meet Sirius’, “-thank you.” His words are heartfelt, and Sirius knows that he is both grateful, and apologizing for doubting him. 

Sirius quickly wraps his arms around Regulus’ waist, standing up and spinning his brother in his arms like he knows he hates. He drops him when the other yelps. “Of course. You’ll never get too old for me to be your big brother.”

Regulus is blushing and Sirius thinks he catches the other’s eyes darting toward James, but isn’t sure. James is studiously pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate with a focused intensity usually reserved for pranking strategies. 

Trotting hooves interrupt the moment before it can become too awkward though, and Regulus slips off to join the rest of Athena cabin. “Sirius, would you please give Remus the usual new camper introductory tour and arrange for a bunk in Hermes cabin for now. James, take over until Sirius returns and lead your cabin. I believe you have canoeing first with Hephaestus cabin which,” he squints suspiciously, “I’m unsure how that scheduling error was made, since your cabins were banned from having that activity together again after last year’s attempt to attach a rocket engine.”

“Is it really an  _ attempt  _ if we succeeded?” James asks innocently. 

Chiron doesn’t dignify that with a response. He does however add, “oh, and Sirius, make sure that you take him to the armory.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sirius addresses Remus, “right, so. This is the Mess Hall. We take all our meals here.” Turning he points to the woods nearby. “We do capture the flag in the woods - actually there’s one tonight but I’ll explain that later. Erm. It’s filled with monsters and other nasties, so don’t go in unarmed. Preferably don’t go in alone, or without telling anyone you’re going in.” He turns toward the path next to them, where James is gathering the rest of the cabin. “If you follow that it will take you to the beach, and the other way goes to the canoe lake, where James is headed now. Ahh, follow me now and I’ll show you the rest?”

Remus rises fluidly, slinging his staff over his back by a leather strap as if he’s done it a thousand times before. Sirius thinks that perhaps he has. He shows him the climbing wall, but Remus doesn’t even react to the real flowing lava. They visit all the other areas, stopping in the camp store to grab Remus an orange camp t-shirt, and then the armory. The large metal building stands out compared to all the other buildings, which are designed in traditional Greek architecture. The door creaks as he pulls it open, flicking on a light before indicating for Remus to go inside.

“Whooooah,” the boy breathes in amazement.

_ FINALLY, a reaction!  _ Sirius thinks. “Yeah, it’s pretty sweet, huh? Some of these are historical weapons from famous demigods, others are newly forged by the Hephaestus cabin. But all are made of celestial bronze, a metal wielded by both the Greek gods, and their children,” Sirius rattles off the information, having given this speech dozens of times before. Possibly even hundreds by this point. He’s definitely given more often than anyone else at camp, since any unclaimed demigod who arrives is also his responsibility as leader of Hermes cabin. “It is deadly to magical beings. As you saw with Arachne’s children, my daggers had more of an impact than your staff. No offense.”

Remus shrugs, unperturbed by the slight insult. He walks along the edges of the room, eyes appraising the multitude of different styles and choices. Sirius’ heart rate picks up as he watches the man bathed in the golden glow created by the magical metal. Normally weapons only give off a subtle glow, but put a lot of them in one place and Remus looks nearly like a Greek god himself. Sirius has met Apollo a few times now, and privately thinks that Remus could easily usurp him as most attractive of the gods.

Briefly, a flare of sunlight blindingly fills the armory, causing Sirius to flinch and cover his eyes. Perhaps his thoughts are less private than he assumed. “Alright, alright, I get it.” The light dies back down and Remus gives Sirius a  _ what the fuck _ look. Sirius can feel himself blushing, but hopes the other will attribute it to the sunflare. He waves his hand encouraging the other to continue. “Don’t worry about it, just a little temper tantrum from Apollo. They happen a lot, might want to just get used to that now.”

Returning to his search for a weapon, Remus runs his fingers over the various tridents and bidents held in an umbrella stand. There aren’t very many - most demigods prefer swords, knives, or bow and arrow - but there are several designs. 

“Are you looking for a staff similar to yours?”

“Ideally, I suppose. I’ve used it for so long it would be… more comfortable to give it up if I at least have something similar.”

“Well, you won’t have to give it up entirely. When we practice spar, most people use wooden versions of their chosen weapon, so you would actually be able to use yours most days. This would just be for when there’s a chance of monsters.” Thinking, Sirius taps his lip, eyes scanning, but not finding what he wants. “Take anything for now, just in case, but I have an idea. Someone in Hephaestus owes me a favor, I’ll get him to forge something for you.”

Remus blinks several times. “You don’t need to do that.”

“No, but I want to.” 

“But… you don’t even know me. I’m not one of your pack.”

_ Pack.  _ The word sends a thrill through Sirius for some reason. He wonders why Remus chose that word, but decides he likes it regardless of the reason. “You are now,” he replies easily with a smile.

The man regards him for a few seconds more, before a shy smile takes over, revealing a single dimple and  _ oh, _ that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is. “Okay.” The word comes out a little funny through his smile, but then he’s stepping closer to Sirius and Sirius’ breath is catching and is Apollo throwing a tantrum again or is it just hot in here? “Pick a knife for me like yours?”

He tries to stutter through a response but quickly gives up any hope of forming a coherent word, and instead turns and pulls out a drawer with mid length knives like his own. Selecting a single one that he knows was just recently forged, he shows Remus how to wear it and how to draw it. He notes with pleasure the way Remus runs his fingers over the twisting leaves and trees stamped into the leather of the sheath, similar to the engravings Sirius saw on his staff. When it earns him another shy smile, he manages to stare only a few seconds too long before leading the way out and to the Hermes cabin. He considers that a victory in self control.

Taking the steps two at a time, Sirius spins around arms held out wide. “Welcome home! Well. For now. Until you’re claimed.”

The Hermes cabin is a rustic wooden lodge style building. The columns outside are twisting tree trunks, branches stretching out to hold up the A frame covering the porch. Large flat stones of varying earthy colors frame a large wooden door, that Sirius pushes open, inviting Remus inside. The central room has a large fireplace to their right, surrounded by couches and chairs. The stones of the hearth climb all the way up to the soaring ceilings crossed with exposed beams that it is not at all uncommon to find at least one of his siblings perched on at any given time. 

To the left is a staircase leading to the second floor. A walkway with a railing wraps around and overlooks ¾ of the main living area and is lined with doors leading to each camper’s bedroom. Sirius waves for Remus to follow up, leading him to the side with larger bedrooms meant for the older campers and those who stayed year-round. “This is James’ room, this one’s mine, aaaaaand-” throwing open the door next to his, “-this can be yours. There’s a wardrobe here where you can hang your, hey wait, where’s the rest of your clothes and shit?”

Remus cocks his head to the side in question. “Rest of my clothes?”

“Yes, like. The clothes you wear when you aren’t wearing these?”

“I don’t… have anything other than these??”

“You don’t… have other clothes. Ohhh gosh Aphrodite kids will have a field day. Nope. Okay, that can’t happen, Hades knows what they’ll dress you in. Let me get you a pair of my jeans you can wear with your camp shirt for now, and then I’ll take you out shopping in the city at some point soon.”

Remus appears completely puzzled but doesn’t argue when Sirius disappears and returns with a pair of plain blue jeans he thinks should fit the other alright. “These are a little big on me so hopefully they won’t be too tight for you… Ummm leave your weapons in here, the baths are this way and I’ll find some sheets for your bed while you bathe.”

It’s uncommon but not completely unheard of for a camper to arrive with nothing, so Sirius doesn’t think much of it as he leads him to the bathes and pulls out spare soaps they keep tucked away for instances like this. He shows Remus how their showers work and gets him a towel and all that. He’s about to tell him if he needs anything else to just holler, but the man is already stripping off his tunic and  _ holy mother Hera  _ Sirius is entirely too gay to be in the same room for this, as the tightness in his pants oh so kindly reminds him. 

He slips out the door and pauses in the hallway, lightly banging his head on the wall. Behind closed eyes though is burned the image of broad shoulders with distinct muscles, littered with scars that appear to be claw marks but do absolutely nothing to deter from a body that is the stuff of  _ very _ wet dreams. Sirius isn’t sure whether he’s disappointed or relieved that Remus is so quiet, withdrawn, and seemingly completely disinterested in Sirius, and being here in general. Hopefully that will lend itself to Sirius getting over his attraction to the other fairly quickly.

Drawing a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth, he settles himself and goes off in search of bedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments much appreciated! xoxo


	3. gamma

“Well, he’s not _thrilled_ about it, and said we should stop pissing Lily off, but Shacklebolt is in for capture the flag.”

“Nemesis and Hypnos both already commit to Demeter. Not to mention Apollo, but it was assumed that they would.”

James groans, throwing himself dramatically down on one of the couches with an arm over his eyes. “This is going to be a slaughter, Padfoot. We’re so outnumbered.”

“The unity of your forces is vastly more important than the size. Don’t waste your time trying to win a larger cabin’s fealty when you have smaller cabins you know to be loyal. The fact that you have worked with them before and know their tactics will provide a greater advantage.”

Sirius twists in his chair to examine Remus, who hasn’t even lowered his book to address them. He can see his eyes still moving, presumably not even pausing his reading to comment on the situation. He turns back toward James, who has removed the arm from his eyes to look first at Remus, then at Sirius. “Grab Hecate,” Sirius tells him. “And encourage them to bring Pig Balls. You know how Lily hates them and doesn’t let them use the things.”

James is off the couch and out the door before Sirius has even finished speaking. Swinging his legs where they’re hanging over the arm of the chair, Sirius returns to watching Remus. Mentally, he adds Nike and Nemesis to the list of possible immortal parents of the boy. Ares, of course, seems like the most obvious choice. He dismisses Aphrodite entirely, she would be too proud of such a beautiful child to withhold her claim to him for this long. Apollo is off the list as well, since he was clearly listening in to Sirius’ thoughts and both failed to claim Remus, and was offended by the other’s attractive appearance.

“So you _are_ capable more than single sentence response! And that wasn’t even in reply to a question directly requiring your response!” Sirius gasps dramatically and wipes a fake tear from his eye. “They grow up so fast.”

He can see Remus’ lip twitching in smile, but the others eyes never leave the page. Sirius gave him a book ancient Greek about the gods and demigods, and the camp. It helps with their dyslexia to have books in the language their brains are naturally wired for, particularly when the new campers tend to be young and still struggling with coping with their condition.

Remus has been seated in that chair, devouring the book ever since it had touched his hands. Kicking his legs against the chair again, Sirius leans back, dangling his head over the other arm until his hair brushed the wooden floorboards. He wants Remus’ attention on _him._ Not some stupid book. But he knows that it’s important for Remus to learn about who he is, and _yada yada yada._ He knows. That doesn’t stop him from _aching_ for Remus to talk in long proper sentences like that about himself, rather than about battle strategies for capture the flag.

“Fidgety pup is ready for the hunt,” Remus observes, finally looking over the top of his book at Sirius.

He considers replying that he’s an alpha not a pup, thank you very much, and that he’s fidgety for Remus’ attention, not capture the flag, but with that last thought manages to bite his tongue. “Why do you use wolf references? Is it because of your name?”

The other’s eyes have already returned to the book, reading with dizzying speed. “No, because I was raised by them.”

Sirius freezes. “What?” He thinks Remus must be kidding from the casual, off-hand manner with which he says it.

“I was raised by wolves.”

“Literally. You were literally raised by wolves?” Sirius thinks of the way Remus’ voice sounds like it hasn’t gotten a lot of use. Of how he has no possessions. The simple nature of his clothing, his long and ungroomed hair, the way he didn’t use utensils at breakfast.

Closing the book, Remus sets it on the table and observes Sirius with amusement. “Yes. Were you not informed?”

“You know, I think everyone forgot to mention that little detail to me.” He decides to leave out the part about him not paying attention in cabin leader meetings in favor of illicit trade deals with Hephaestus cabin, and thus didn’t know Remus was _arriving_ , let alone had been living with wolves. “How long were you with… the wolves?”

“My entire life, I believe. I don’t remember a time I wasn’t with Lupa and her pack.”

Sirius sits up straight in his chair, frowning as he tries to remember details about the Roman sister camp. “Lupa usually trains new Roman recruits and sends them to Camp Jupiter I thought?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re not Roman, you’re Greek, obviously. Why did she keep you so long? You must be nearly as old as I am.”

Remus shrugs casually, but his fingers fidget with the hem of his orange camp shirt. “The goddess did not say, really. As I got older and realized that other demigods were going on to Camp Jupiter, but not me, I asked about it and was told I didn’t belong there and that I was with her for my protection. When I finally _was_ sent to Camp Jupiter, it was with instructions to secure safe passage to Camp Half Blood.”

“Are you _the_ Remus and have been hiding with Lupa since Rome was founded..?” he asks, only half jokingly. Weirder things have happened when it comes to demigods.

Remus chuckles, deep and rhaspy and Sirius would swear it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, just after the other man’s voice. In the back of his head he thinks maybe he should spend some time analyzing his life and the possibility of an aural kink, but tucks that away for a _much later date_ labeled possibly never, and places it in the back of his closet of denial. He becomes acutely aware of the fact his younger siblings are watching them curiously.

“I don’t think so, no. But I suppose we shouldn’t rule it out completely, hmm?” And then he winks. WINKS. It’s everything Sirius can do not to choke on his own tongue.

Luckily he’s saved from having to formulate a coherent answer by the war horn sounding the call to capture the flag. He stands from the chair, looking anywhere but at Remus, giving directions to the younger campers to get geared up. The next time he looks toward the man, he’s frowning, and even that puts a knot in his stomach. Before he can decide whether to approach him though, Charlie is there talking to him and everyone is making their way out the door toward the forest.

He can feel Remus watching him as he straps on light leather armor, mimicking Sirius’ choices. Picking up a helmet with a red plume, he passes it to Remus. “Hold this.” Frowning, Remus studies the helmet, as Sirius steps behind him. Carefully, he gathers Remus’ long hair at the nape of the man’s neck, securing it with an extra hair tie from around his wrist. Remus’ eyes are wide when Sirius takes the helmet from his hands again, slipping it over the other’s head.

Pulling on his own helmet, Sirius taps the plumes on his head. “Red is our team. Blue are the bad guys. Well, for this game, not in general. Chiron will explain the rest of the rules in a minute though.”

Chiron explains everything and releases them into the woods. Remus keeps up easily at his side, with the head counselor from Dionysus cabin on his other side.

“They always keep the flag at Zeus’ fist. Should we head straight there?” she asks.

Remus answers before Sirius has the chance to. “Make them redirect their forces. Send a large contingent to an area they do not expect to be attacked so that they must defend it. Draw the attention away from where you will actually attack.”

Sirius picks up the pace, running faster through the woods trusting his team to follow. Stopping in a clearing well into their side of the battle, he addresses them, “Hecate cabin, take the creek. Patrol the border with liberal use of Pig Balls. We will help you with the alchemy this week to replace whatever is used, so don’t stress about that, go. James and Kingsley, take the strongest and attack the Labyrinth. Try and draw redirect their attention and keep it there.”

Stealing a glance, he’s proud to see Remus nodding his approval. “Where do you suggest we keep the flag?” Sirius asks, eager and curious to put the man to the test.

Remus regards him with calculating eyes. “Precipitous heights.”

There are murmurs of questions around them, but Sirius just cocks his head, waiting for him to continue.

“Your den has lofty beams, I have seen even your pups perched high above. Use your natural advantage against your enemy, and protect your possession in precipitous heights.”

“Right. Alex, take this find the tallest tree you can, not too close to the edge of the forest, and display it from one of the uppermost branches. Lyra, go with him, but remember both of you, you cannot stand within 10 yards of it.”

Looking back to Remus, his heart begins to race at the way his smile reaches his eyes. “It’s very smart to trust two of your youngest. The enemy won’t suspect that and will concentrate their forces on the strongest here.”

Sirius looks away, blushing. “They are very good climbers, not to mention adept thieves. They will find a spot to hide it in plain sight. The rest of you, patrol our side of the forest, further in from the creek. Watch Hecate’s backs. Remus, you’re with me.”

For his broad, muscular stature, Remus is surprisingly stealthy. Not as quiet as Sirius, of course, but it’s clear that his time with Lupa’s pack has left an impact on the way he traverses the woods. Adrenaline is rushing through his veins and Sirius wants to let out a whoop of pleasure, but forces himself to save that for when they win. The air around them is thick with smell of damp earth and the rebirth of the forest that comes with the beginning of summer.

They make it undetected until Zeus’ fist is in sight, when one of the two guards stationed there gasps.

Sirius is shocked when Remus pulls his knife out with no hesitation, wielding it as if he has his entire life, rather than having picked it up for the first time that morning. He watches a few seconds too long in fascination at the way the other man weaves with natural grace, causing him to hiss in pain as an arrow sinks into his hip due to his distraction.

Leaving the first to Remus’ obviously capable hands, Sirius sprints toward the archer, pulling the arrow from his leg and casting it aside as he goes. Another arrow whirls through the air but he parkours up a tree trunk, dodging it and flipping to land behind the daughter of Apollo. Although killing and maiming are not allowed, knocking them unconscious is fair game. Sirius doesn’t even release his knives, settling instead for a leg sweep from the ground where he landed that knocks the air out of the girl hard enough to have her down and out for all the time he needs.

Returning to the Fist, he sees Remus has already retrieved the flag. He meets Sirius at the edge of the clearing, pressing the blue fabric into his hands. “You’re faster and quieter than I am. Go, I’ll cover your back.” Sirius hesitates long enough to see Remus pull his staff. “Go!”

And just like that Sirius is off, and without anyone to be heedful of, he doesn’t hold back. It’s not often he gets to use the full ability allowed him as a child of Hermes and he can’t help the smile that splits his face as he feels his feet leave the ground at top speed.

He is over the creek and past the border guards before they even know he’s approaching and finally allows himself the giant whoop of excitement that he’s been holding in. James calls him Padfoot because of his enhanced silent movement, but despite being the head of a house of thieves, Sirius _hates_ when he HAS to be silent. He knows the other team is groaning, but all he can hear is the answering call of his brothers and sisters, well versed in his victory exclamations by now, they answer with cries of their own.


	4. delta

Around the fire that night, Sirius receives all kinds of congratulations, but keeps directing it back to Remus. They won because of Remus. It may have been Sirius’ feet that carried the flag over the line, but it was Remus’ strategies that gave them their victory. Gave them the guidance and edge they needed.

Lily is frustrated and demands to know where their flag was, but Sirius just looks at Remus and smiles. They never even found the location. Precipitous heights, indeed. “Sorry, Evans, that’s classified.”

The Roman soldier joins them, hands on her hips and frowning at Remus. “I thought for sure with your victory you would be claimed now. You were instrumental in the military victory. You have earned your place in this legion. Where is your immortal parent?”

Sirius is surprised as well, but it is not quite as common for a Greek god to claim their child due to victory as it is for a Roman one.

Lily motions for Charlie to sit next to her, but continues the conversation about Remus’ past and parents. “Why did Lupa keep him for so long? I thought she and her pack usually trained initiates and then sent them to Camp Jupiter fairly quickly?”

“Yes,” Charlie agrees, leaning forward, hands clasped loosely and gaze fixed on the fire. “They don’t usually spend longer than three years with her, and usually much less than that. From what Remus has told us, he’s always been with her.” She glances over at the boy for confirmation, and he nods. “We kept receiving new initiates talking about the boy who fights with the wolves, I have heard the stories as long as I can remember, but I was born in New Rome, so I cannot say first hand. Once he arrived, older members of the legion seemed to remember a young boy, but they simply thought he was another initiate and just wasn’t ready to go to New Rome yet.”

“That makes sense, but then why was he sent to New Rome now?”

“I was not, in the traditional sense,” Remus contributes, adding to the conversation about him for the first time. “I was told that I wasn’t a child of Rome, but to find the camp and they would help me get to Camp Half Blood.”

Charlie nods, before adding, “this is supported by the fact we believe him to be past his 16th birthday. All Roman demigods are claimed by then. So, presumably, he will be claimed here.”

“I’ll bet he’s a child of Ares. In the myth, Remus and Romulus are children of Mars. If Mars didn’t claim him, then it has to be Ares who does!” A young son of Ares grins at Remus, showing off a missing tooth. He sits cross legged on the grass near the fire, rocking back in forth in clear excitement at the prospect of a new brother.

“He certainly has the build of it.” Sirius hears the comment, whispered dreamily from the direction of a group of Aphrodite’s children. Of course, he agrees, but it bothers him that someone else notices. He squashes that feeling down quickly. 

“Then why hasn’t Ares claimed him yet? We’re at the campfire, where new campers are usually claimed. He wasn’t claimed after battle, which is Ares’ style as well, even in his Greek form. And besides, it’s tradition that they’re claimed by their 13th birthday.”

Conversations rise and fall like the waves of the sound, speculating the parentage of the newest camper. Remus for his part, sits silently observing the discussion with polite interest, but not much more than that. Sirius can’t tell if he doesn’t care, or is just masking his thoughts on the matter. 

“I’ll put a drachma on Athena,” Sirius wagers, thoughts drifting back to the multiple times he proved himself to be a military strategist above all else in the battle.

“You just don’t want it to be Hermes,” James remarks under his breath, low enough that only Sirius can hear. That doesn’t stop Sirius from shoving an elbow in his brother’s rib.

“He can’t be a child of Athena,” it was Regulus who quietly spoke up this time, surprising everyone except Sirius. “She’s the only god who claims all of her children at birth.”

Sirius studies the other, who is seated with his brothers and sisters, primly on a wooden bench. (He knows that Regulus would rather stand than be forced to sit in the grass.) He is a stark contrast from the others of his cabin. He has Athena’s grey eyes like most of them do, but black hair, like Sirius and Orion, although Sirius’ is curlier like Hermes’. Regulus is a drop of ink on parchment, amid the sea of pale blonde hair flickering in the glow of the bonfire’s light.

There’s quiet murmurs of acknowledgement to Regulus’ comment, and general agreement around the campfire. Sirius however, furls his brow. “That’s true, and all the more reason to think it’s Athena. Remus wasn’t raised by a mortal parent, and wasn’t claimed at his 13th birthday. It’s possible he  _ was  _ claimed at birth, but obviously he wouldn’t have a recollection of it, just like none of you do.” He waves his arm, broadly gesturing to where their cabin is gathered on a log and the grass in front of it.

Chiron strokes his beard in contemplation. “Both Black brothers have the right of it, which leaves us back where we were. There is also the possibility that Remus’ godly parent has a reason for withholding claiming at the moment - if it were to put him in danger, for instance.”

More murmurs circle around the fire, but no one picks up the thread of speculation again. The Apollo campers pull out their instruments and lead the singalongs but Sirius can’t focus on anything except his proximity to Remus. The boy is seated on the ground in front of him, long legs stretched out towards the fire, but as the night progresses he slowly slumps over so that he’s leaning against Sirius’ leg. His hair is still pulled back in the low ponytail with Sirius’ hair tie, and the flickering fire has it glowing auburn like the sun as it sets over the water.

Tentatively, Sirius reaches out and pulls the hair tie out, smiling at the grumbling it draws from Remus. Running his fingertips through the length, he works out the tangles from running through the forest. Once the curls are free of all knots, he sections the hair and starts french braiding it, enjoying the silky slide of it between his calloused fingers. When he ties it off again, Remus reaches up and runs a hand over it, feeling the pattern. Humming happily he leans more solidly against Sirius’ leg and rests his cheek on his thigh. 

Sirius looks wide eyed at James in mild gay panic, expecting to find teasing but instead just gets a soft smile and discreet thumbs up in response. Hesitantly, he rests his hand on Remus’ shoulder, his thumb brushing the skin at the collar of his camp t-shirt. Remus nuzzles Sirius’ leg briefly and Sirius can feel the boy’s breathing getting slower, deeper, more even, until he’s sure he has dozed off right there on the ground at the fire. 

It occurs to him for the first time that Remus must be exhausted considering he started the morning off fleeing from a swarm of arachnids, and then still fought in capture the flag tonight. Who knows when the last time he actually slept was. 

Torn between waking him up and taking him back to the cabin, or letting him sleep until everyone else heads back, Sirius settles for leaving him and absently stroking his thumb over the warm skin of his neck. He tells himself it’s because the boy is already asleep, so what’s the harm and he would have gotten up and headed back himself if he had wanted to, but a little voice niggles in the back of his mind telling him it’s because he likes the warm cheek resting on his thigh.

Sirius resolutely ignores the niggling because that’s a dangerous thought process. Especially with an unclaimed demigod who was his responsibility. As annoyed as he was with James for his comment earlier, he wasn’t incorrect. A large part of Sirius is just aching for Remus to be claimed so that he knows he isn’t a child of Hermes.

Staring absently into the flames, the sound of campers talking and singing all around him, he feels himself slipping into his thoughts like quicksand, dragging him down and pressing the air out of his lungs. Before he can spiral too far into his own self-doubt and denial, there’s a soft tug on his sleeve. 

The youngest of his siblings at camp are a pair of six-year-old fraternal twins, a boy and girl with wild brown curls and soft green eyes who love to crawl in Sirius’ lap when they’re sleepy. More nights than not he ends up carrying one or both back to their beds. 

Selene eyes Sirius’ leg where Remus’ head rests, clearly in the way of her being able to sit there. He’s just about to suggest she sit between he and James on the bench, when her brother Elio crouches in front of Remus, peering up at his face and pokes him in the cheek. 

He can feel Remus shift and wake, before pulling the small boy into his lap without hesitation. Elio says something to soft for Sirius to hear, but Remus’ answering laugh is deep and warm. He lifts his head, looking down at the small demigod in his lap before ruffling his curls and encouraging the boy to settle between his legs and lean back against his chest. Her spot free, Selene climbs into Sirius lap and leans her head against his shoulder. There isn’t much longer for the bonfire, but he’s sure they will both be out like a light before that. The excitement and stress of the battle that morning sure to have worn them out even more than those who fought in it.  

When everyone rises to retire to their beds before the cleaning harpies can come to chase them off, James offers to carry the small boy back, but Remus waves him off. He scoops Elio into his arms, rising as if he weighs nothing. He follows Sirius back to the Hermes cabin and up the stairs to the room the twins share, gently laying the boy in his bed and brushing his hair away from his eyes. 

Watching the tender way he cares for Sirius’ youngest brother sends a dagger through his chest, as if his heart is being torn apart and pieced back together, differently but stronger than before. Like the way he was assembled up until now was  _ acceptable _ but Remus came along and showed him it could be  _ better. _ His earlier panic about Remus’ origin falls away with the realization that even if he ends up being a child of Hermes, there are worse things than having a brother he loves and trusts to help him lead and care for the younger demigods.

Before they disappear behind their own doors, Sirius stops him with a touch to his arm. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Remus’ face betrays his own exhaustion, but his smile is still easy. “Of course. You take good care of the young pups.” He hesitates a moment, before adding, “and me. You took good care of me today. Thank you.”

Sirius stands staring for several long seconds after Remus disappears behind his closed door, thinking on what a strange, long day it had been. It felt like weeks,  _ months _ since breakfast. Perhaps that’s what happens when someone storms into your life with a pack of spiders on their tail and flips your entire world on its head.

Shaking his head, he goes into his own bedroom, closing the door softly behind him and hoping that the exhaustion from the day will win out over the multitude of thoughts swirling like storm clouds in his mind.


	5. epsilon

After so much insanity in one 24-hour period, Sirius wakes up the follow morning expecting more chaos and is on edge all day long, until the sun sets on a relatively uneventful one at Camp Half Blood. Only one of his siblings gets burned by lava, no one loses a digit in sword lessons, and Remus weaves himself seamlessly into camp life.

The days pass like this with nothing remarkable happening, except for a slight increase in monster attacks. A baby drakon wanders out of the forest at dinner and is easily dispatched. A few more arachnids appear at the enchanted border, but the archers take care of them without any assistance. Overall it is situation normal at camp, but Sirius can’t quite move past the feeling of unease that coils in his gut. It’s a feeling he’s very accustomed to, and has trained himself to trust as a demigod. It has saved his skin on no few number of occasions.

He is sitting on the edge of the dock about a week after Remus’ arrival, bare feet hanging off to skim the water while he skips stones across the glass-like surface, when Regulus joins him.

“I can tell you’ve been thinking too much. Your brow gets all wrinkled and eyebrows all scowly when you do,” he says in replace of greeting. It’s one of the things Sirius secretly loves about his younger brother - he never wastes his or anyone else's time on pleasantries. He says when he came to say and what he means to say, no dancing around or guessing at his meaning.

Sirius skips another stone, counting _one, two, three, four, plunk and sink_ before he answers. “Something’s coming. But I don’t know what. So I shouldn’t waste my time worrying about something that may or may not happen regardless, but I can’t get past that… restless intuition.”

“Does it have anything to do with that handsome wolf living in your cabin?” he asks, a flash of silver surveying him from the corner of his eyes.

Sirius huffs and shrugs noncommittally. “He’s obviously a demigod of some sort. He reads ancient Greek fluently and can wield celestial bronze. He clearly has abilities beyond that of a mortal. But he’s yet unclaimed. It’s a violation of the agreements with both the Greek and Roman gods. Either he _isn’t_ a Greek or Roman demigod, but something else entirely, or they have a good reason for not claiming him. And I’m not sure which is more concerning.”

Regulus picks up a rock off Sirius’ stack, humming in agreement. He turns the stone over between his fingers several times, eyeing the water in thought, before snapping his wrist. _One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, plunk._

“Show off,” he grumbles. The sun is sinking lower, warn against their backs while the moon rises, bright and heavy on the eastern horizon. He watches the way Regulus is chewing on his lip, something he only does when he’s so deep in thought he doesn’t realize that he’s doing it. “Now I can tell you’re thinking too much.”

Regulus looks at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the way you keep stealing glances at James when you think no one is looking, does it?” His smile stretches wide across his face at the way his brother’s turns as red as the sunset, too guilty to even attempt denial.

“Maybe,” he mumbles, instead. He wrinkles his nose a bit. “Is it weird that he’s your brother and I’m your brother?”

A few years ago would have seen Regulus vehemently denying anything so juvenile and plebeian as a _crush_. It’s both eye opening to Sirius, and a sign of how much Regulus has grown, that he does neither.

Sirius hums, skipping another stone across the water. “Nahh. Just a wonderful reality and side effect of being a demigod. So are you going to go for it then?”

“You’d be okay with that?” Regulus asks hesitantly.

“Sure, why not?” What he doesn’t say is the number of nights he’s been kept awake by James sitting across his legs on his bed while Sirius tries to sleep, recounting the ways he’s fucked up in front of Regulus that day, and _why does your brother have to always catch me looking like a complete idiot?_ He’s not sure that James has reached the realization stage that he might actually _like_ Regulus though. Actually, he’s sure he hasn’t, because if he had, there would have been a Great Big Breakdown on his bedroom floor about that. Probably even an Identity Crisis relating to his six year obsession with a certain daughter of Demeter.

Speaking of… “What about you and Lily? You spend a lot of time together.”

Regulus looks down at his hands, weaving his fingers together and unweaving them again. “Mostly we just complain about what an idiot James was that day. I think she might like him though, even though he drives her crazy.”

“But there’s nothing… going on there? Between you and Lily?”

His brother is quiet for a long time, but Sirius waits patiently, letting Regulus work through his thoughts before he shares them. “That’s the problem, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well… Lily makes me comfortable. I like spending time with her, and she’s soft and safe and warm. And I can tell her things and she’s very insightful and a good listener and sometimes I think it might be nice to be more than just friends with her… But. James gives me those crazy butterflies and I can’t think straight when he’s around and my skin feels too hot and- well. I don’t know which I would choose, so I just don’t?”

Sirius wants to laugh but knows that it would hurt Regulus feelings because he would think it was directed at him. But Sirius wants to laugh because these three are ridiculous. He doesn’t know Lily well enough to be sure, but he would wager his entire secret stash of drachma that she’s experiencing the same confusion as James and Regulus.

The sky is growing dark as he scoots closer to wraps an arm around his shoulders. “I have a secret.” Regulus only glances at him for a moment before staring back down at his fingers, but Sirius continues anyway. “You don’t actually _have_ to choose only one. You _could_ choose to love both.”

Regulus looks at him with a great level of skepticism.

“I’m serious!”

“Yes I know.”

Sirius shoves him in the shoulder. “Here I am, trying to be a good brother and you go and pun me, no respect!”

His brother is laughing hard, slumped sideways on the dock where Sirius shoved him. When he props himself up on his elbows again, he’s still smiling as he asks, “really though? That’s a thing?”

“Of course it’s a thing! And honestly- I swear to Hades you can’t tell James I said this- I don’t think you’re the only one who is feeling that way.” He gives him a very pointed look and thinks Regulus must get the hint by the way he starts chewing his lip again.

Regulus opens his mouth to reply, but with what, Sirius will never know because at that moment the salpinx cuts through the clear night air, calling them to battle. Sirius swears viciously as he takes off running toward his cabin. When he flies through the door, James is already waiting for him with his weapons, armor, and a change of clothes. Unconcerned with modesty, Sirius strips right there in the living room, barking orders to his siblings as to who stays and who goes.

For the first time in what feels like forever, he isn’t thinking about Remus, easily slipping into his role as a leader preparing for battle. That is, until he stops hollering orders long enough to try and find where James set a shirt down for him, just to have it held out towards him. His thanks die on his tongue when he’s faced with hungry eyes trailing down his chest and abdomen before snapping back to his face. For the first time he witnesses a flustered Remus, crimson causing the freckles on his cheeks to stand out more noticeably.

Sirius wordless accepts the shirt from him and the other turns out his heel, marching out the door, staff held tight in his fist. The war horn sounds again, snapping Sirius out of his distraction. He quickly finishes dressing and ties his bracers with his teeth while running toward the hill. Marlene is standing at the top next to her girlfriend, who still holds the salpinx between her dark fingers. For the second time in a short period Sirius finds himself silenced unexpectedly. Instead, he turns his eyes outward, seeking what has rendered Marlene as white as a ghost, morningstars glinting in the moonlight where they are clenched between trembling fingers.

Fear runs ice cold through his veins and his heart pounds painfully in his chest, a clear reminder of his own mortality. Stealing looks to his sides he sees a similar expression to what he must look like painted on the faces of those around him - Regulus, James, Lily, Kingsley - all of them fighting down rising panic. Sirius wishes he had a reason to send all of them back, behind the safety of the magical barrier, but he hasn’t got one.

Finally his eyes settle on Remus, who shows none of the fear or panic of the rest of them, but instead is blazing with anger and determination. He reseathes the bronze dagger Sirius picked for him, unslinging the silver staff from his back, and suddenly a few things click into place, but there’s no time for Sirius to contemplate them now.

Remus’ resolve is contagious and the other demigods draw in close, unconsciously choosing him to lead this battle as the enemy draws closer. A howl tears through the night and it takes everything in him for Sirius to ignore the chill that runs up his spine and hold his ground at Remus’ right hand. Remus answers with a feral shout of his own and is joined by everyone around him. Pumping his staff into the air, Remus takes off down the hill to engage the pack of lycanthropes approaching them at full speed.


	6. zeta

All of the foreboding and fearful intuition that Sirius has held coiled in his chest for the past week, spirals out like tendrils into the night. Even as he lets it go, running down the hill at Remus’ right hand, all he can think of is how painfully unprepared and outmatched they are for this enemy. It’s so incredibly rare for a demigod to face off with a lycanthrope, that fighting them isn’t even taught at Camp Half Blood. Of course, Sirius knows the legend that they can only be harmed by silver, and takes Remus’ staff as confirmation of that before he even reaches the first one.

He is vaguely aware of Kingsley Shacklebolt not joining the fray, but turning to shout orders to his cabin, and Sirius trusts him to have something planned that will spare them a slaughter. When his fear is confirmed by the blade of his celestial bronze dagger passes clean through his enemy without doing any harm, his trust turns to a prayer.

The only thing on their side is that their godly blood prevents them from being turned by the werewolves. Well, that and Remus. The mad man who was currently in the center of three circling wolves, staff a blur of brilliant metal reflecting in the light of the full moon. His hits are calculated and precise, his movements perfectly balanced and so quick that his back is never to an enemy for long enough for it to matter.

One werewolf goes down before Sirius is even able to come up with an alternative plan for his daggers not being effective against their enemy. He is forced to keep moving, throwing himself into rolls and leaps to dodge the wolf. Red eyes glint, a constant reminder of their advantage in the darkness of night. All around him Sirius hears cries of pain and growls from the pack, but he can’t allow himself to be distracted from the wolf before him. He’s forced to trust his brothers and sisters, and the other cabins; forced to trust in their training and that they will all do everything they can to defend their home and each other. 

A swipe of claws throws Sirius off of a jump. He stumbles the landing on the uneven ground, foot caught in a hole until he is falling hard on his side and landing on his wrist at a bad angle. He curses under his breath as blood trickles down his arm from the wound opened in his shoulder. The wolf flies through the air, fangs bared and dripping in saliva. He tries to push himself up but his wrist gives out entirely and all that’s left is to brace for the impact. 

He’s saved by the flash silver staff cutting through the air, hitting the wolf in the ribs with a sickening crack and sending it to the ground next to Sirius. Rolling the other way and cradling his hand against his chest, Sirius climbs to his feet. Remus is eyeing him with concern and Sirius opens his mouth to reassure him that it’s just a scratch, he’s had way worse, he doesn’t think his wrist is broken. Instead, a blood curdling scream sings through the night. 

Over Remus’ shoulder, Sirius can see the leader of the pack - half transformed back to human but still disjointedly wolfish. His claws are wrapped around the throat of a dark-haired demigod, holding them against his chest even as the demigod grips the hand, desperately trying to pry it from their throat. 

Everything stops and Sirius can’t breathe as silver eyes exactly like is own, blown wide with panic meet his, mouth open in a now silent scream for help. It feels as if his own throat is the one constricted, denied access to the air he needs to breathe, to think, to move or do anything at all.

“Hand over the wolf-boy or I will skin you pathetic demigods for a new coat  _ one by one, _ ” the werewolf snarls. His claws sink deeper into Regulus’ neck and the blood trailing down the pale skin doesn’t appear to be the only injury his brother has sustained.

For a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably no longer than a breath, no demigod or wolf moves. Then, Remus lets his staff fall from his hand, clattering on the battletrod soil at his feet. He thrusts his chin high and challenging even in his signal of defeat. Sirius’ thoughts are too scrambled and frantic to find a way to save them both, and just when the thinks he will lose Remus to them, a silver arrow embeds itself in the neck of the pack leader. 

His scream of pain dies quickly as his red eyes roll back, limp arms dropping his hold on Reg. Sirius is sprinting, but it’s James who catches him before his body hits the ground. He sweeps the smaller man into his arms and doesn’t even hesitate as he turns and takes off running toward camp, Regulus cradled against his chest. A flash of fire red hair follows after them, albeit at a much slower pace than the quick footed son of Hermes. He barely notes the movement before a wolf launches at him, forcing him to leave Regulus’ care to James for the moment as the howl of the rest of the pack rises with renewed anger. 

From Half Blood Hill, Shacklebolt finally appears, he and his siblings helping the archers to load specialized arrows that explode with fire on impact. It’s risky, but does the trick to push the advancing enemies back from the magical border. Sirius grabs the silver staff from the ground, shoving it into Remus’ hand and doing his best to just stay out of the way and provide a distraction. 

The chaos is more controlled, but barely, until another silver arrow appears, followed quickly by half a dozen more. Out of the forest appear the maidens firing them, led by Artemis herself, blazing with a low thrum of magnified moonlight. Sirius is too dazed with the pain coursing through his body and fear for Regulus to find it in him to be impressed by the goddess’ appearance.

The last of the werewolves fall, defeated. What had seemed impossible not long ago has been achieved, but only by the sheer blessing of the goddess and her Hunters. All around the clearing demigods lay or kneel injured and panting in the wake of the calamity, lit by the flickering of small fires. In the center of it all, Remus stands, shoulders slumped and head down surrounded by the bodies of dead wolves. 

Artemis makes a signal and several of her Hunters break off, to check the surrounding area for more lycanthropes no doubt. The rest follow her as she approaches, surveying the scene with a level of serenity that Sirius can’t decide whether to find calming or cold in its indifference. 

The goddess appears to be about 14-years-old, with long ink black hair braided to fall over shoulder and eyes as bright as the stars above them. While Sirius hears many of the demigods around him gasp at her beauty, he is most struck by how similarly she looks to he and Regulus. The three of them together could appear siblings far more than she and Apollo. Those silver eyes flick to him for a moment and he thinks he sees her lips quirk in amusement, before returning her attention where it was.

“Remus Lupin. You’ve grown.”

He doesn’t look up, doesn’t show any sign of having heard her at all, until he leans over and plucks a silver arrow from the throat of a wolf at his feet. Standing up straight, he twists the arrow in his fingers with interest, eyebrows drawn in thought.

A screech pierces the night and many flinch, still jittery with adrenaline from the attack, but none of Artemis’ hunting dogs do more than sniff the sky. From the trees a large gray owl swoops, wings thrumming with heavy beats. Sirius’ eyes go wide as Remus begins to emanate light, steadily growing until it is nearly bright as day around him. The owl circles, now glowing as well, before landing on his shoulder and letting out another triumphant cry.

The Hunters are the first to kneel, joined by those demigods who were not already doing so. Sirius is the last to bend his, bowing his head in respect.

“Athena,” Artemis’ voice rings out, high and clear in the cool night air. “Promachos. Unwearying. Bringer of Victory. Hail - Remus Lupin, son of the Virgin Goddess of Wisdom.”


	7. eta

After several beats of reverent (read: awkward) silence, Artemis dismisses them, telling them to return to their cabins. To tend their wounds and then get some sleep. It’s late into the night by this point, and most of the demigods are dead on their feet and don’t need any further urging to turn and make haste for their beds.

Sirius rises stiffly from his knees and turns his back on the entire scene, pace quickening until he’s sprinting for the infirmary. He wishes it were further away so that he had an excuse to run for longer, and if it weren’t for Regulus he would go for a run right now to exorcise his swirling thoughts from his over encumbered mind. As it is though, he arrives both too soon and too late, his guilt for not being the one to carry his brother, for finishing the battle, clawing at him like the wolves had been.

As he rounds the corner he can see Lily and James at the foot of the steps, in each other’s faces and seconds from blows, if he had to guess. Their voices rise and he’s sure he’s not the only one who will be privy to the argument.

“Yeah well, _excuse me_ for stepping on your toes while you try and play the hero,” she shouts.

James is pulling at his hair, eyes wild, “playing hero?! What, because I got him the medical attention he needs? That’s all it takes to be a hero now? I’ll be sure to notify Olympus immediately!”

“I’m just trying to make sure my friend is alright, I didn’t need you to haul me out like a bag of grain!”

“You literally wouldn’t listen to the healer’s demands for you to _get out!_ She told you three times, Evans, but no, you have to throw a temper tantrum and can’t control your emotions for five minutes-”

“At least one of us has emotions beyond fucking with other people’s lives.”

James goes frighteningly still and Sirius knows his best friend and brother well enough to see the dangerous flash to his eyes. “What are you saying, Evans,” he demands.

Sirius thinks maybe he should stop this before one of them says something they regret, but the other part of him thinks maybe they need to say these things.

Lily hesitates, but must be too angry to stop now, the words spilling from her mouth, “even if I can’t control my emotions when I’m worried about Regulus, at least I’m capable of caring and loving someone like that!”

Approaching slowly now Sirius keeps his steps quiet to hear the low growl of James’ voice, scant inches from Lily’s face. “Yeah? And where were you when the wolf hand him by the throat? Who was he fighting back to back with? Wasn’t you. Who caught his limp body before it hit the ground? Wasn’t you Evans. I love that man more than you will ever know or be capable of, so you can fuck right off. And I will haul you out _like a sack of grain_ again if you cause such a ruckus again.” His lip curls with disdain and Sirius grips him by the arm. “Honestly, claiming to care for him but can’t even keep your cool when it comes to saving his life. Causing a stir in an infirmary trying to save his life-”

“Let’s go, James,” Sirius says, his voice thin and tired even in his own ears. He can see the tears threatening to spill from Lily’s eyes and thinks they both have made their point. Better to cool off for the evening before they do irreparable harm to their friendship. “I need you to take care of the cabin in my absence. I’ll let _both_ of you know the moment anything changes. But for now I need you both to be cabin leaders so that I can be with my brother.”

Both nod stiffly, James goes to clap him on the shoulder, but stops short. “You’re bleeding.” Sirius waves his hand vaguely and shoos them both. They turn silently in the direction of the cabins, not looking at one another and walking with several feet between them.

The door creaks on its hinges as he pushes into the back hall, wood boards bending under his feet from age. In the infirmary, a few other beds are occupied, both from this fight and from other camp activities, but only one curtain is drawn. Weaving between people and trying to stay out of the way as he heads toward the far end, Sirius peers around the fabric before stepping inside.

Regulus was so pale he blended with the white sheets, his hair a sharp contrast. The wound on his neck had been wiped clean of blood and a daughter of Apollo was pouring unicorn draught in each slash. Sirius winces, glad Regulus is still out and won’t feel the burn of the medicine doing it’s work.

“How is he?” he asks lowly.

Laura looks up, seemingly just noting his arrival. “He’ll be fine. Nothing life threatening, but certainly worse than we’ve had in a long while. He’s lucky the claws didn’t puncture anything vital.”

Sirius nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. Sinking into the chair next to the bed, he takes Regulus’ hand in his, brushing his thumb over the back of it soothingly - whether to soothe himself or his brother, he isn’t sure. Laura pulls the sheet lower to examine the various wounds on his ribs, humming a hymn so that her hands glow a warm gold as she runs them over the injuries, helping the worst of them along.

The click of hooves on the wooden floor alerts him to Chiron’s presence long before the centaur appears at foot of the bed. “You should get that wound treated and stitched, Sirius.”

“It’s fine,” he replies, a touch too harshly.

Chiron sighs. “Everyone thinks it’s the Ares kids who are the worst when it comes to injuries. Spend any amount of time at camp and you’ll know it’s really Hermes’ brood.”

He doesn’t answer, but knows it to be true. He isn’t in the mood for jokes though. He feels like everything in his life is flipped upside down and he can’t grasp a single truth to pin it down. He’s holding Regulus’ hand like a lifeline, worried he’ll be lost at sea if he lets go.

“The bed next to this one should be vacant?” Laura asks Chiron for confirmation. When he nods, she motions for the curtain to be opened. “Sirius take the bed next to your brother, you can see him from there and we can get that wound treated.” When he still doesn’t move she puts her hands on her hips in a stern fashion that Sirius teasingly calls her ‘mom glare.’

Before she can reprimand him though, he rises sufferingly and stands next to the bed. He removes the leather armor from his chest, struggling to do so with only one hand, and then his tshirt, wincing when the fabric tugs at his skin where it was stuck to him with dried blood. Pulling it off reopens the cuts in his shoulder, fresh blood running over the dried. Laura takes the shirt from him and drops it straight into the trash can, and he’s too tired to protest.

First she checks his wrist, frowning as she runs her fingers over it. “Deep breath,” she murmurs. He hardly has time to do as commanded when she’s squeezing it, popping something back into place. A choked noise leaves him unwillingly, but she runs her hands over it all and he has to admit it already feels much better with everything back in the proper place. “Lay down and I’ll clean the shoulder.”

He does as he’s told. All of the adrenaline from the fight has left him and he’s hurtling toward sleep like a falling meteor toward the ground. While she tells one of her younger siblings the things she needs, he closes his eyes, listening to the quiet bustle around him. The Apollo campers always have a certain air about them; demigods in general seem older than their ages, but Apollo’s children emanate controlled efficiency, most likely due to their roles as the healers of the camp.

A wet cloth scrubs his arm, more gently the closer it gets to his shoulder. He braces himself, knowing the unicorn draught will follow, gritting his teeth through the sting as it disinfects and aides in the healing.

Laura tsks, “yours are worse than your brother’s, what did you do, get mauled?”

“More or less.”

“These need stitches. And you’re off battle duties until they’ve properly healed.”

He says nothing, but silently adds a _we’ll see about that._ Not training until they’re healed is all fine and dandy, but if the werewolves strike again, good luck keeping him behind the lines while the others march out to face them. He turns his head to look at Regulus, stretching the skin of his shoulder taut for the needle. At least the color is returning to his cheeks, he looks more asleep than half dead now.

The long gashes take ages to stitch by hand, even with her practiced hand, and Sirius very nearly nods off several times. He startles a bit when she touches his cheek after finishing. “Do you want to spend the night here or are you alright to head back?”

Stealing one last glance at Regulus, reassuring himself with the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the white cotton blankets and sheets, he asks, “you’ll get me right away if anything changes?”

“Of course. It’s nearly morning now though anyway. He’s stable and will be perfectly fine when he wakes up. I think you’ll sleep better in your own bed though.”

Sirius nods his agreement, swinging his legs off the bed and waiting a moment when his tiredness makes him woozy. “Yeah. I’ll go back to the cabin. Thanks for everything, Laura.”

He takes his time walking back, half because he’s tired, and half because his thoughts are hazy and disorienting. His resolve to keep pushing away all thoughts of Remus dissolve when he reaches his bedroom door and sees the one next to his standing open, the bed and nightstand empty.


	8. theta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the brief break there, holiday madness and all that. I have outlined the rest and updated the chapter count. I am having surgery in a couple weeks and HOPING to get this finished before that, otherwise there may be a brief break again while I recover, but don't worry it's been abandoned if I go quiet again. (: No risk of that. Thank you all for reading and the incredible comments you leave.  
> Enjoy xx ~shadowprince

Sirius awakes from a deep dreamless sleep to a soft knocking on his door. Rubbing crust from the corner of his eyes, he squints at the bright light streaming through skylight. “Come in,” he yells groggily. 

The door swings open and Dorcas steps in, closing it quietly behind her. Without a word she draws back the gauze covering his stitches, eyeing it with a critical gaze before rewrapping it. “I promised Laura I would check it when I saw you. No infection so far, but stop by the infirmary again this morning to have them put fresh ointment and bandages on it,” she keeps her voice blessedly low and Sirius hums in agreement, his eyes slipping back shut.

She settles at the foot of the bed, gently pushing his feet over enough to make room. Sirius props an arm under his head enough that he can see her. It’s not the first time she’s been in his room, but she still surveys every inch before returning those bright blue eyes to him. Her braids are down this morning, long dark hair framing her face and making her look softer; more girl than warrior, though both are permanently intertwined in her. They ebb and flow like waves which is at the forefront, but it is always supported by the other.

“Was there something else? Not that I don’t enjoy your company.”

Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “But there better be more for me to have woken you up?”

Wryly, he smiles. “Something like that, yes.”

“Cabin leaders are to be at the Big House to meet with Artemis and Chiron about last night. I was sent to wake you, but we have a bit of time yet. Thought you’d prefer to wake slowly than be forced up immediately.”

“You know me so well, love,” he hums. Neither say anything for a while, Sirius enjoying the simple closeness of someone sitting with him in comfortable silence and the way she rests her hand on the blanket over his ankle. “What made you decide to stay at camp after so long living alone?”

Dorcas wears a thoughtful expression as she considers her answer. “It was overwhelming at first, but camp, especially when it isn’t summer, does offer a lot of places and time to be alone without feeling lonely.” Her eyes meet his, brows furling. “Does that make sense? I think people who have never been completely alone don’t always understand the difference. There’s a difference between being alone and being lonely. You can be alone without being lonely, and you can be lonely while still surrounded by people. Here… Here I have the option to be alone while still knowing I could be with people who know and care about me when I need them. I never have to worry about being lonely again like I was before.”

Sirius nods his understanding, “I’m glad you stayed,” he adds softly.

She smiles as she rises from his bed, dusting nonexistent wrinkles from her leggings. “Someone is feeling sentimental this morning, it seems,” she teases.

“Maybe a little bit,” he admits. Throwing back the blanket, he climbs to his feet and arches his back until it pops, stopping himself just in time before he stretches his arms over his head in a way his shoulder would make him regret. He accepts the black jeans that Dorcas hands them, shucking his pajama pants and pulling them on before digging for clean socks and camp shirt.

As they cross the green side by side, Sirius watches the younger campers running and laughing, learning and playing. He tries to picture a younger Remus there, curly brown hair burning into an auburn from long hours under the sun. He wonders if he would smile more if he had grown up at camp, if he would be more open, more communicative. 

However, a small petulant voice in the back of his head says maybe that’s just the way Remus is. He knows that he’s being prejudicial because of his personal dislike of Athena; that it’s much more likely that Remus is reticent because he spent so long alone than because of his mother. After all, Dorcas was the same way when she first arrived, and her father hardly knows how to shut up with his damn haikus. It took awhile for her to adjust but she did eventually.

_ Maybe it’s different with Remus than Dorcas because you want his attention,  _ a smug voice that sounds suspiciously like Regulus whispers in the back of his mind. Sirius shakes his head, like the physical action will clear his foggy thoughts.

It’s not Remus’ fault that Orion ignored him in favor of the goddess. Sirius has even come a long way in his opinion of Athena’s children as Regulus grew up and learned to better communicate and show his feelings. As he got to know Reg’s siblings and learned that they come in all shapes and sizes and emotional capacity. That’s not to say there aren’t some who set him on edge with their blunt calculating nature and lack of apparent empathy. And it’s not even that there’s anything  _ wrong _ with those types of people. It just sets Sirius on edge because of his past and makes him tetchy that he’s going to be ignored and uncared for all his life. (The irony of his refusal to date does not escape him.) He craves attention and to be loved, but keeps everyone except his siblings at arms length so that they can’t hurt him.

A catch 22.

“He’ll stay, you know.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow in question at the statement that came seemingly from nowhere for someone who can’t read his thoughts.

Dorcas is still staring straight ahead, they’re almost to the Big House now. “Remus,” she clarifies, even though they both know he understood what she meant. Or rather, who she meant.

He doesn’t answer as the climb the steps and take their seats in the meeting room. Most everyone else is already there, looking more tired than usual and with no few amount of bruises and cuts among them. Sirius takes the seat closest to the door and entertains himself with walking a drachma across his knuckles, absentmindedly making it disappear and reappear while he stares out the window. 

The weather is mocking them - bright sunshine and blue skies, the very physical manifestation of awake and happy that they all lack. It’s still easier to gaze out at it than risk his eyes wandering the table and landing on a certain boy. He vows to listen for information he needs regarding defending the camp and his siblings, but then after that, he’s out. 

This is easier said than done though, as Artemis seems determined to focus more on Remus than the werewolves. Sirius is tempted to point out that they’re her sworn enemy and maybe she should be more concerned with them than a 16ish year old boy, but that would require him to acknowledge Remus’ existence, and right now he’s committed to being petulant instead. 

“So, what makes him so important that a pack of werewolves followed him all the way here and risked an attack on camp?” Nike’s cabin leader asks, jerking a thumb in Remus’ direction.

Artemis steeples her fingers, resting her chin on top and looking fondly at Remus. Sirius scowls, because when has Artemis ever looked at a man even  _ fondly _ or with anything less than disdain. “Remus’ mother - his mortal mother, that is - designed our silver arrows. She was possessing of clear sight and knew that all the myths and stories held some truth to them. So it was that when she read the myths about werewolves and silver, she realized that if arrows could be fashioned from the metal itself, weighted correctly to fly, it would greatly assist in our hunt. Athena became aware of her research and design, and has always been helpful in acquiring strategies and weapons for me, and assisted her in the process.”

“I have a mother?” Remus’ voice is tight, more strained than Sirius has ever heard it and he can’t help the concerned look he shoots him.

“Two, actually.” Artemis hesitates, a fleeting spasm of regret and pain before it’s gone, so quickly Sirius wonders if it wasn’t just a trick of the light. “Your mortal mother passed shortly after you were born. She named you and Athena saw to bringing you somewhere you could grow up out of danger.”

“That’s why he was with Lupa,” Sirius realizes.

Artemis voices the rest of his thoughts exactly, “who better to raise him than Lycaon’s sworn enemy?”

“He  _ was _ claimed at birth,” Lily is staring at the side of Sirius’ head, but he refuses to meet her gaze, despite the acknowledgement that he was right all along. 

“Yes,” Artemis states simply. “Although, since only Athena is alive to have known that, he was claimed again last night.”

Chiron clears his throat to quiet the murmurs that are growing in volume around the table. “I believe what we must do now is consider the possibility of the werewolves returning.”

Nodding in agreement, Artemis rises from the table. “Yes, they will for certain. Myself and my Hunters will remain here at camp for the time being. Another pack will come seeking vengeance now that Remus is away from Lupa’s protection. Until they realize you are properly trained and armed to deal with their threat, I believe the chance of attack is high. The sooner the camp’s defenses are reinforced, the better.”

Sirius flips the drachma into the air, disappearing it with a wave of his hand and a trick of the light and rising from the table as well. “I will see to the acquirement of silver, Shacklebolt we’ll meet later about armaments. If there’s anything else you need traded or acquired, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I should go see if Regulus is awake.”

No one protests and he turns, slipping from the room without a glance back.


	9. iota

When Sirius enters the infirmary, Regulus is already awake and sitting at the edge of the bed. Laura and another of the younger Apollo children are hovering, inspecting, and rebandaging him. His brother looks up, sheepish when he realizes it’s Sirius and offers a wane smile, to which Sirius simply shakes his head with affection.

“Just had to go and give us all a scare, didn’t you?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “It’s not  _ my _ fault.”

“No? And whose fault is it they grabbed you then, dear brother?” Silver eyes dart away guiltily. “Clearly we haven’t been wrestling enough lately and I’ve been neglecting your self defense training. Looks like some private lessons are in order!”

Laura glares at him. “Neither of you are in any place to be wrestling anytime soon, do you hear me? Gods, I swear I need to put shock collars on the lot of you.” Finished with Regulus she walks over and motions for Sirius to remove his shirt.

“Dorcas already checked!” he whines. 

“Yes, and I wouldn’t put it past you to have mangled something between then and now, now off with it.” Begrudgingly he pulls his tshirt off, standing patiently while she inspects the stitches, frowning. “This isn’t healing as quickly or well as I expected and it looks like it’s starting to get infected.” She rummages through some drawers before finding a jar of ointment that he guesses has some sort of magical healing property by the warmth and tingling he feels as she rubs it over the skin. She wraps bandages across his chest and then around his shoulder and it’s too much of a struggle to try and get his camp tee back on, so he ends up just not. “We’ll have to keep an eye on it and I will look into the nature of werewolf injuries more.”

Sirius realizes that Regulus’ eyes are wide as he stares at the wound on Sirius’ shoulder, and that his brother wouldn’t have been aware of his injury, seeing as he was unconscious last night. “Right, we’re free to go then?”

Laura just waves a hand dismissively, shooing them. Regulus looks like he wants to say more, but decides not to, instead just nodding awkwardly at Sirius and slowly walking off toward the cabins. Sirius had planned on going that way as well to try to find a tank top that would fit over the bandages, but doesn’t want Regulus to feel like he’s following him. As it is, he’s slightly irritated that his brother is going to act like nothing's happened and ignore the fact that Sirius was fucking terrified last night that he was going to lose him.

He settles for wandering camp, skirting the strawberry fields and running his hand down the muzzles of a few pegasi as he passes, but he stops short at the sight of Remus lingering at the edge of the forest watching him. Even from a distance he can see the boys eyes going from his shoulder to his face, and Sirius is unsure whether to approach him or not. They stand staring at one another, neither moving, until Remus looks away and steps into the trees, quickly swallowed by the unnatural darkness and thick foliage. Sirius shoves down the unbidden urge to take off at a sprint after him so that he won’t be in the woods alone.

_ You warned him not to go alone, he knows what he’s doing, he’s not your responsibility, leave it alone, Black. _

After a few steadying breath he shoves his tshirt over his head, fighting to get his arm in and over the bandages as he stalks off toward the arena to work off this pent up irritation. He finds that he’s in luck, pleased when he sees the cabin leader, and only inhabitant, of cabin 13 is the lone person there. He smiles feraly when the child of Hades turns to face him, their eyes flashing with an answering challenge, wrist twisting to swing their rapier in a wide circle at their side before standing straight, their other arm held behind their back.

To many it might look like a formal movement of the traditional sword dance, but Sirius is very aware that it is also a reach for their secondary weapon: a dagger strapped to their back that they are equally adept with. 

Their rapier itself is a thing of beauty that Sirius has spent many hours marveling at, on top of being attacked by. The blade is Stygian iron, created from a magical ore that only a child of Hades or Pluto, or the god himself, may wield. The black blade thrums with a deep violet glow, drawing and giving power to the shadows around it. The swept hilt, however, is made up of twisting branches, flowers, and leaves wrought from silver. Sirius knows the weapon was a gift from Hades and Persephone together, and the sentimental side of him is always touched and mesmerized by the elements that each one put into its design.

“Sirius, it’s been a while.”

“Miss me, have you?”

“Not quite,” they answer dryly.

Their hair is shorn short, a blunt cut at their chin that accentuates their elven features and is nearly as dark as their sword. Their skin nearly as pale as Hades despite living above ground and spending so much time under the sun. The main place they differ from their father is in the brilliant emerald green eyes currently locked on to Sirius’ every move.

He drops into an easy crouch, unsheathing his daggers, one in a forward and one in a reverse grip. “Shall we dance, Finley?”

By way of answer, they lunge forward, midnight blade out stretched for Sirius who dodges it easily. He and Finley are very evenly matched, more so than almost anyone else at camp, sharing similar fighting styles, strengths and weaknesses. As such, they are Sirius’ favorite partner to practice with and whenever they do it often becomes a spectacle. He’s not sure how evenly matched they’ll be today though, as he has to favor his injury and hide the weakness, but that doesn’t keep him from giving it his all.

Sirius feits, but they see through it, ramming the butt of their hilt into his ribs when he comes up behind them. Sirius’ yelp turns into a laugh as he spins out of their reach again. “Come on now, don’t be like that Fin.”

Both have a propensity toward showing off, and as they dart, parry, spin, and leap, Sirius can feel his irritation falling away like sand in an hourglass - slowly yet surely.

Bearing their teeth, Fin leaps backwards landing in the shadow of one of the arena’s columns and disappearing. Sirius sprints to the center under the sun, awaiting where they will reappear in the shadows. They’re so quiet, he nearly misses spinning in time, his enhanced speed the only thing that allows him to keep up. They have had battles before using no weapons and relying entirely on their powers and have found that although most consider shadow travel grossly unfair (insanely  _ cool _ Sirius thinks) when pitted against Sirius’ speed they are as evenly matched there as everywhere else.

Frustrated at his dodging their tactic, Finley lets out a low growl and stomps their foot. The ground beneath Sirius shakes and he takes off running until his feet leave the ground, just before geodes precious metals and gems begin to litter the soil, creating treacherous footing. 

Aiming for a pillar, he runs straight up it and throws himself into a backflip and hears a roar of gasps and cheers come up from the crowd he hadn’t noticed gathering. Fin is not fast enough to miss the attack entirely, but does dodge the brunt of it as Sirius clips them with a kick to the shoulder and graze of a dagger before landing in a low crouch and sliding across the dirt. Shouts fill the arena and through the haze of the rising dust he kicked up, Sirius sees Remus come sprinting out of the forest from the noise, staff already held tight in his fist and face set for battle. He stops at the edge of the arena and seems to realize the mistake in his assumption, but Sirius has no more time than to register that before Fin is charging at him.

The two close the distance quickly, grappling close in a rapid flurry of blades and feints. Voices rise and fall around them amid the high metallic clanging of metal on metal, but Sirius doesn’t dare tear his gaze from Fin for even a moment. His muscles burn pleasantly and sweat drips down his neck and face, salty on his lips.

Finley swings wide with their rapier, dagger flat against their forearm to block an incoming blow from Sirius, but when they step to the side they falter, flagging. Sirius darts to the side and lunges forward, dagger outstretched for the opening he anticipates them leaving, but before the blow can land he gasps in pain. Blood blossoms like ink in water, feathering out and quickly staining his shirt crimson.  _ Shit _ , he thinks. Finley has already sheathed their weapon and is kneeling beside Sirius where he’s fallen to the ground clutching at his shoulder and torn stitches.

“You’re such an idiot, Black,” they mutter.

There’s a commotion from the crowd and then Laura is there, shouldering her way through the throngs of demigods who had gathered to watch the sparring. “What in the name of Hades were you thinking? What part of  _ off all battle duty _ did you not understand!” she shouts.

“Sparring is not a  _ duty,  _ per se,” he tries for lighthearted but can hear the tightness in his own voice.

“Let’s go. Infirmary, now. And you’ll be lucky if I don’t tie you to a bed, let alone release you again before it’s totally healed.”

He rises to his feet and Fin retrieves his weapons where they lay in the black dirt that is now splattered with sweat and blood. They hold on to them and walk on Sirius’ other side, escorting him to the infirmary. Remus is nowhere to be seen.


	10. kappa

Chiron doesn’t let Laura tie him to a bed, though it appears that he seriously considers the request in the way that he studies Sirius with barely concealed exasperation. He does, however, agree with confining him to the infirmary for the night, because not only has Sirius torn his stitches, but the wound looks to be becoming infected. 

This unfortunately means that Sirius is stuck with only his thoughts for company as he sits petulantly in a bed at the far end of the room. Demigods come and go, being treated for minor wounds from their daily campy activities, but the scowl that Sirius affixes to his face does the trick in keeping everyone away. Amidst the smells of antiseptic, bottled sunshine (as Sirius likes to think of the distinct scent of Apollo’s children), he wonders if Remus returned to the forest after realizing the camp was not being attacked, or if he had stayed and watched Sirius and Fin spar. He wonders what Remus was even doing in the forest. And then he wonders why he cares.

Even the next day after he’s released - restitched and rebandaged with firm instructions to return immediately to the Hermes cabin and remain there resting except for meal times - Sirius can’t get thoughts of Remus out of his head. It makes no sense that for how short of a period of time Remus was in the Hermes cabin, his absence and the results of the battle should turn everything in Sirius’ daily life completely on its head. 

James and Lily are avoiding one another with such resolute obstinance that James and Sirius aren’t even  _ pranking  _ Demeter cabin, and doesn’t that succinctly explain how fucked up Sirius’ days are. Sirius wants to scream at James for being selfish, because he could really use the distraction of plotting to drive someone else crazy, instead of going crazy himself. The tension lines in James’ face, the tightness in the way he holds himself when either Regulus or Lily are near, are the only thing that keeps Sirius from doing so. That, and the knowledge that if he says anything James will return the favor with questions about Remus that Sirius doesn’t have answers to.

Regulus, for his part, is pretending both Lily and James don’t exist, although to what end and for what purpose, even Sirius isn’t sure. Instead, his brother has taken to spending all his time with  _ Remus _ and Sirius resolutely refuses to admit, even to himself, that it hurts how easily he swapped one Black for the other. The result though, is that their usual happy group that used to eb and flow, intermingling easily, is disjointed and blown to seperate, distinct spheres.

Regulus and Remus. Sirius and James. Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas. Dorcas will still come talk to Sirius if James isn’t around, and really she has no horse in the race, but Sirius thinks she feels bad that Lily is ostracized from the boys and has a sense of duty to keeping her company and not rubbing salt in the wound by being around James. Honestly, Sirius would go talk to her about what happened if they had been closer beforehand and if he didn’t have his own shit to figure out. He’s not exactly in a place to be trying to fix the fallout between her, James, and Regulus at the moment.

It’s with a furious, fevered obsession that his thoughts circle back to Remus and while Sirius has spent his last 16 years confident that the Black insanity missed him due to his demigod blood, he’s beginning to rethink that logic. He inadvertently creates a mantra in his head that he did his job, he brought a new camper into the fold until he was claimed, and saw him safely into his new cabin. He has done it a hundred times before, and as the leader of Hermes and a year-round camper, he will probably do it a hundred times more. There was nothing special or different about this time, other than the fact that Remus was older than most demigods and had been raised by wolves.

And was handsome and looked at Sirius with that piercing gaze like he was disassembling him in his mind, peering inside at all his parts until he knew Sirius’ inner workings better than Sirius himself did, before he carefully reassembled him.

Sirius shoves that thought away viciously. He did what was expected of him and now has a new job, in preparing the cabin for the inevitable return of the werewolves. If he were in the mood for jokes he would tell James that’s what he’s calling it and  _ doesn’t that sound like a bad thriller movie, let’s make posters for the cabin about it.  _ But as it stands, neither he nor James have been in the mood for jokes, much to the chagrin of their younger siblings, who end up bearing the brunt of their respective fallouts and general moodiness without really understanding what is going on with their big brothers.

Although, today the honor of the brunt of Sirius’ irritation falls very squarely on Kingsley Shacklebolt, who has  _ yet _ to get Sirius the numbers he needs to calculate how much silver he needs to order. Which also means the weapons haven’t even begun to be smelt and they are  _ still _ sitting ducks for another attack. Aside from Artemis and her Hunters who have settled into the cabin set aside for her, but their presence makes Sirius twitchy and he’s sure he’s not the only one. 

The faster they can prove they are able to defend themselves, the faster Sirius’ life can return to normal. Despite knowing that won’t be the case, he latches onto the idea with single minded focus bordering on obsession. Anything or anyone standing in the way of Sirius’ fixation on the illusion of a “return to normal” become casualties in his warpath.

“Look, I can get you the silver, that’s not the problem. What I’m asking is, does it matter how much silver is in each weapon to be effective in killing a werewolf?”

“And I’m telling you, I have no fucking idea, Black! Go ask Athena cabin - Hades, go ask  _ Remus. _ ”

Sirius crosses his arms and ignores the demand altogether. “Can the metals be mixed together? Or maybe not mixed, but interwoven in the same weapon?”

Kingsley crowds into Sirius’ space, but he stands his ground.

“Are you not listening to me? We’re completely out of our element here.”

“No, we  _ were completely out of our element in that fight. _ We were totally blindsided by the enemy, and would have be slaughtered if not for the Hunters, and all you’ve got is ‘I don’t know’? I’m not here talking for my own pleasure, Shacklebolt! Figure this shit out so we can get the cabins armed properly before they come back - because they  _ will _ come back.”

The hulking man grinds his teeth, but eventually just nods stiffly, turning away and stalking back into the forge. Sirius can hear him barking orders (and possibly punching something) but moves on once he’s satisfied that the man will come up with a solution. 

Breathing through his nose until his irritation and anxiety subside, he’s left with only the urge to punch something and considers going in the forge and hitting whatever Shacklebolt had earlier, but resists only because he knows that will probably just end with him and Kingsley punching each other. And as tempting as that is, he won’t be the reason the camp isn’t armed properly - all because he and Hephaestus’ leader are in the infirmary unconscious from both of their fiery tempers. 

Also because Laura will kill him if he rips his stitches again.

Sirius has been dutifully returning to the infirmary each day to have her or one of her siblings check his wound, but there hasn’t been much progress in the positive direction. The three long slashes run from the back of his shoulder, over his collar bone, and down his chest and part of his arm. They are long and deep, swollen an angry red, refusing to close properly even with the stitches, and very steadily taking on a sickeningly yellow hue. 

Even though he is loath to admit it, Sirius can feel it taking a toll on his body. He sleeps longer each night and struggles to wake up in the morning, constantly feeling weak and too tired to lead his siblings in their daily duties. He’s eternally grateful for having James there to step in and take over for him, even if he pretends not to notice that James is doing it to distract himself from Lily and Regulus, and (rather hypocritically, Sirius thinks) fixing Sirius with worried looks whenever he thinks Sirius isn’t paying attention.

The short walk between the forge and the mess hall for lunch leaves Sirius winded with bright white spots swimming across his vision. He stands blinking to clear them for several seconds and when he can see clearly again, is greeted with the sight of Remus at the Athena table staring at him intently with a furled brow, a book open in front of him forgotten, his plate shoved away. Regulus is next to him, nose buried in a book of his own and seemingly talking to Remus at the same time. The claw marks at his neck have healed completely, leaving behind smooth silvery scars on his pale skin that he’ll carry with him all his days. Sirius reminded of the scars he saw littering Remus’ tan skin when he stripped to shower his first day at camp and wonders if this is how he received them. 

It seems that every thought he has begins and ends with Remus these days. Even when he tries to think of someone or something else, all roads for him lead back to his very own Rome. He wants to watch Remus curled up with a book in one of the big arm chairs in Hermes cabin, in front of the fireplace on a winter night, grumbling at Sirius for interrupting his book with his million questions. He wants it so badly that his chest aches and he wants to look away from Remus but he can’t.

Those green eyes are still locked on him, and Sirius is struck by how unfair it is. He wants to know if the entirety of his short life has been spent in a battle that was chosen for him. That Remus should be hunted because his mother invented Artemis’ silver arrows, something that was accomplished before Remus was even born - or perhaps it’s because that is most likely the  _ reason _ Remus was conceived by Athena, but even still. It isn’t  _ fair,  _ and it makes Sirius hate Athena a little bit more, that Remus will spend his life being littered with scar after silvery, permanent scar on his body, all in the name of a fight that was chosen for him. Thrust upon him at birth.

He wonders if his mother gave her life for that battle. If that thought has occurred to Remus since learning he had a mother.

Apparently tired of being ignored, Regulus jams his elbow into Remus’ ribs when he gets no response. Remus finally looks away, freeing Sirius from where he is rooted in place. 

Sirius becomes conscious that his heart is beating too fast in his chest, although for  _ once _ he doesn’t think it has anything to do with Remus this time. It feels like his blood has turned to syrup, thick and sluggish in his veins. He’s hyper aware of his body in a way he doesn’t think is normal, struggling to ignore it as he selects a bit of bread and fruit for lunch. He’s not particularly hungry but knows he should eat a least a little bit.

The conversations around him are a dull buzz, like the cicadas at night in the strawberry fields. Sirius tries to pick out one, to follow the train of any one conversation, begging any words to reach his brain in tact, but he just can’t seem to. His mind floats aimlessly, as if drifting away from him and leaving an empty shell behind to try and pass as a demigod and Sirius has been split in half between the two parts.

Walking to the Hermes table he stumbles over seemingly flat ground, frowning and looking for a rock or something to blame it on but finding nothing. When he looks back up, his vision swims and there are two Remus’ rising from the Athena table. Blinking, he sways dangerously trying to figure out which is the real Remus because he  _ cannot handle there being two _ . Fuck, he can’t even handle one Remus. He has the completely illogical thought of  _ why is the world spinning so fast, that’s going to mess with our weather _ just before his knees buckle. He gasps and the whole world goes dark.


	11. lambda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're back! Sorry not sorry for leaving you with a cliff hanger before surgery, and thank you for your patience <3

Sirius wakes up in the infirmary with no recollection of how he got there. The last thing he remembers is walking toward the mess hall for lunch, but now it’s dark outside. He considers arguing with the child of Apollo that he’s _fine_ and can definitely return to his own bed, although the way the world starts spinning again as he struggles to push himself to a sitting position vehemently disagrees with his assessment. It doesn’t really matter though, because he’s told by the boy that he’s under strict orders to keep him there and to send for Chiron, Laura, and Remus as soon as he’s awake.

He wants to fight all of those orders, or have James break him out, except that in addition the world continuing to spin out of control, he starts running a fever while they’re waiting for those three to arrive, that just keeps climbing until Sirius is too dazed and disoriented to fight about anything at all. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but is stuck drifting in that place between consciousness and sleep, where he can hear voices but can’t make sense of the words or who is there. He thinks he feels someone brush his hair back from his face, the soft touch of warm fingers along his jaw and at his pulse, thinks he catches the smell of the forest at night, of crisp cedar and juniper. But the next time he’s able to open his eyes he’s alone again, voices drifting through the open door leading further into the big house. He wants to ask what’s going on, why _Remus_ of all people was to be notified when he woke up, but doesn’t have the energy and slips quickly back into the dark clutches of sleep.

The swirling darkness that engulfs him comes and goes in waves. At some point he thinks he hears Kai, head of Hypnos cabin, calling for him, but the voice seems to be coming from everywhere, bouncing in the space around him so that he can’t find find the source or direction to lead him. It echoes in the darkness and Sirius is lost, until it becomes too faint to hear at all and Sirius falls further into the abyss.

⁂

The closest he gets to waking up is when he’s _sure_ that it’s Finley touching him. The child of Hades has a very distinct aura that Sirius is extremely in tune with from all of their sparring matches. He knows the feel of the darkness that emanates from them, and while it is off putting to a lot of people, it is comforting to Sirius, a softness that washes over him in reassuring waves of _friend._ He chases the feeling, spinning in the darkness and trying to distinguish what is the darkness trapping him and what is Fin’s darkness.

_“He’s alive, but he’s lost.”_ He hears from somewhere far away. _“The magic from the werewolves is in his bloodstream, but I can’t tell more than that. This is somewhere between my father’s and Apollo’s realm. I can tell things Laura can’t, but it’s going to take both of us to really pin him down.”_

Sirius breathes a sigh of relief. Fin will figure it out. They won’t let him get lost in the darkness.

_“I can tell that his demigod blood is trying to fight an infection, but I can’t see or feel him in the darkness like Fin can,”_ Laura confirms.

_“And you did unicorn draught when he first came in?”_ Sirius can feel the darkness trying to pull him back under, but fights against it at the sound of Remus’ voice.

_“Yes, to both his and Regulus’ injuries. Camp Jupiter told us it’s stronger than ambrosia? I don’t really understand it though,”_ Laura admits.

Remus ignores most of this, and Sirius can practically see him chewing his lip in thought. _“Draught must not have been strong enough. Do we have unicorns here at camp? We need to shave from the horn and put the powder directly in the wound. It needs a more concentrated source of silver.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“He hasn’t slept in days from researching, I wouldn’t trust him to walk a straight line without falling over, but I would trust him in this.”_ Regulus is here too. And Remus has been researching to help Sirius?

He wants to think about that more - well, overanalyze it, if he’s being honest, but he can’t keep the darkness away any longer. With the reassurance that all the people he loves are there and trying to save him, he gives in to the pull and stops fighting, slipping away from their voices once again.

⁂

Sirius isn’t aware of anything at all for a long time, until he is suddenly assaulted by a lot of things all at once. It starts out as voices, bubbling, muffled, and incomprehensible, as if he is underwater and the sound is being tossed by the waves before reaching him.

Then there’s a piercing white light and _pain, so much pain._ Sirius wants to gasp, to cry out, but he can’t find any breath so he’s left arching his back, mouth falling open in a silent scream. He becomes aware of hands holding him down without any recollection of them touching him before now, but they must have been there. The white light becomes more bearable, welcome, as Sirius realizes that it’s pushing the darkness away and pulling him back to wakefulness. He tries to relax, to let his friends do what they need to do without fighting them, but can still feel the threads of dark magic pulling at his veins.

With one last push and the murmur of voices singing above him, he breaks through _finally._ His eyes fly open wide and he draws a huge gasping breath, staring into the equally startled faces above him. Finley and Laura have their hands still on him but their song dies off and the magic flowing from their hands, causing them to glow a deep purple and a brilliant gold, is slowly subsiding. The two of them and Remus are all leaning over him, frozen and waiting for something to happen. Sirius looks down at his chest and arm where the werewolf had scratched him. The wound is covered, absolutely smeared in a glittering powder, giving his skin an opalescent sheen of a shifting rainbow.

“Are you saying I wasn’t fabulous enough before?” he croaks.

To his surprise the first pair of arms around him are Fin’s. “You fucking bastard, how dare you.” He can feel hot tears burning paths down their cheeks where they’ve buried their face in his neck. Sirius wraps his good arm around them, leaning his head against theirs.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

“It’s not your fault, Sirius.” He hadn’t noticed Chiron standing in the corner, but of course he would be there. “I think Finley is just expressing for all of us how worried we’ve been about you.”

Sirius’ eyes find Remus’ green ones; the man is watching him with no emotions on his face, but plenty writ into those eyes that Sirius can’t read. They flick to where Fin is still crying on his shoulder and then back to Sirius.

“Thank you, everyone.”

“How are you feeling, then?” Laura asks as Finley draws back, scrubbing furiously at their face and withdrawing to find a tissue. Regulus approaches from where he was standing back by Chiron and Sirius scoots over as best he can so his brother can climb in the bed next to him.

Sirius takes quick inventory of his body. “Honestly, I feel like I’ve been laying in one position for a month but other than that totally normal.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks, but-”

“ _Two weeks?!_ I was expecting two _days!_ I was _joking_ about the month!”

Sirius struggles to sitting position but Regulus places a hand on his chest when he tries to get up, forcing him to remain where he is.

“Who is leading the cabin? How are my siblings? The silver order needed to be placed, we need armaments, did Kingsley figure out the ratio calculations? What about-”

_“Sirius!”_ Regulus’ voice is heavy with exasperation.

“I should let him take over when I retire,” Chiron muses.

He opens his mouth to resume issuing orders, but pauses at the laugh that bubbles from Remus, a sort of startled bark at first until it’s pouring from him and he can’t seem to stop. Sirius stares in wonder, his mouth hanging open in awe as he basks in the sound.

“Returns from the brink of death and already issuing orders for battle. And they thought _I_ was a child of Ares.”

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s the children of Hermes you really have to keep an eye on.”

“Obviously,” Remus remarks dryly. “Sirius, your cabin is _fine._ James took over as leader, I stayed in the living room at night reading while he slept because the twins were having nightmares. Regulus calculated the silver shipment and he and James got it to your father, _and_ it arrived two days ago. Everything is _fine_ , now will you focus on _healing_ and not make yourself worse again.”

“You’re talking to me,” he blurts out before he can think.

Remus gives him a funny look and Sirius is vaguely aware of the others in the room leaving quietly. “Of course I’m talking to you.”

“I- well. I wasn’t sure. It seemed like you… weren’t,” he finishes lamely.

Neither of them say anything, the silence between them uncomfortable for the first time. When Remus looks away, it does nothing to break the tension but Sirius isn’t sure what to say. _It doesn’t matter -_ that would be lie. Remus hasn’t denied that he wasn’t _not_ talking to him for a while, and that makes Sirius want to ask _why_ but he also isn’t sure he wants to know that answer.

Remus is wringing a cloth bag between his hands as he clears his throat. “Finley was really worried about you.”

Sirius thinks he’s trying to keep his voice light and casual, but it _isn’t_ and that combined with the sudden change in topic throws him off. His mind is still muddy from two weeks lost in darkness, but he feels like he’s definitely missing something. He cocks his head to the side, his brow furled.

“Yes… it seems like it. We’ve been friends for a very long time, and they were already upset with me for sparring them while injured.” Green eyes peek at him from under auburn lashes, watching him cautiously. Sirius looks down at the blanket in his lap, picking at the threads before hesitantly asking, “were _you_ worried about me?”

He fears the silence will stretch as long as the last one, and leave his question equally unanswered, but is happily surprised when fingers brush his hair back from his face. He automatically leans into the touch, eyes slipping shut, chasing the memory of someone doing this while he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Yes.” Sirius looks up at him at the word, watches the way Remus’ throat bobs as he swallows, eyes fixed on Sirius’ hair as he continues to run his fingers through it. “I was.” He smiles tightly, a small, pained thing. “I should go update James, if Regulus hasn’t already. I promised I would.”

Sirius isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all, just watches the back retreating through the door.


	12. mu

Despite Laura’s fussing, it is quickly obvious that Remus’ cure worked and Sirius’ body easily takes over healing, leaving her with no excuse to keep him in the infirmary. He actually does heed her warnings this time for light duty though, having learned his lesson on overexerting himself for the time being.

For all that Sirius had been fighting to get things back to how they were before, he is still thrown for a loop when he realises that it more or less  _ has _ while he was unconscious. He feels like he stepped through a portal into a parallel universe where things are sort of the same, but sort of different than he remembers them being. 

He spends a lot of time finding patches of grass to sit and watch the goings on at camp, since there isn’t much besides arts and crafts that he can actually participate in. Finley joins him often since they don’t have siblings and can get out of activities easily, spending the hours entertaining him by manipulating the ground with their geokinesis, creating mini golems to enact mini plays of their own creation that leave Sirius’ sides hurting from laughter at their dark humour and poor attempts at different character voices.

Frequently, Sirius catches Remus paused watching them, but when Sirius tries to gesture for him to join them, the man just waves in greeting with a tight smile and continues on to wherever he was headed.

He would be worried that Remus is avoiding him again, if it weren’t for the fact he visits Hermes cabin nearly every night. The first time it happens Sirius just about swallows his own tongue in surprise where he sits leaning heavily into the arm of a couch near the fireplace. It’s much too warm to actually have a fire going in the cabin, but that doesn’t stop Sirius from staring longingly into the pit, thinking of the autumn nights to come when most of the campers are gone and he has the freedom to spend his days how he likes and nights curled up in front of the crackling flames with a book or a board game.

He’s staring absently, absorbing the sounds of his siblings roughhousing on the floor and arguing in their rooms over one thing or another, when Remus sinks gently into the spot next to him.

“Kylee, let go of his hair and go put your pajamas on, please. Peter, what did we talk about hiding in the rafters when you’re sleepy?”

“Sorry, Remus,” comes the chorus of sheepish replies. Seeing that Remus has arrived sends the stragglers of Sirius’ younger siblings scampering to their rooms to get ready for bed.

Sirius blinks long and slow, surveying the boy next to him. “Don’t need me at all do you?”

“Don’t say that,” Remus chastises. 

Selene and Elio, who had already been asleep, poke their heads between the banister upstairs and look down at the couches below them. “Remus?” the little boy asks.

Looking up, Remus frowns. “What are you two doing awake?”

“Everyone was being loud and we had nightmares. Can we come sit with you?”

“Pleeeeeeeease?” Selene begs with big eyes.

Remus sighs sufferingly, like a parent who had finally sat down for the night only for one of his children to crawl out of bed and need to be put back down to sleep. Rather than answering, he just waves a large hand, beckoningly.

Both of the twins quickly push themselves to their feet, racing down the stairs to join Sirius and Remus on the couch. They shift around, kicking each other accidentally, yelling OW like the other did it on purpose, and bickering in the way they really only were prone to when exhausted.

Elio grabs hold of Remus’ shirt front, kneeling in his lap and looking very seriously into his face. “You’ll be here in the morning, right?”

Steadying the boy with a hand on his back, Remus shakes his head. “No, Elio, we talked about this. I have my own bedroom in Athena cabin, remember?”

The boy juts his lip out petulantly. “But  _ why? _ You used to sleep here!”

“Yes, because I didn’t know who my mom or dad was then. Your dad is Hermes, so this is your home. My home is with Athena.”

Selene is so sleepy that she’s close to tears. “But- but- don’t you like us anymore, Remus-us-us.”

Sirius gathers the girl into his arms, rocking her gently with his good arm supporting her weight. “Selene, love,” he brushes her hair from her forehead, “Remus likes you very much, and he’s here right now. You’ll see him again tomorrow, just not right away when you wake up, okay?”

The girl sniffles and buries her face against Sirius’ shoulder. Elio continues to watch them with pinched brows, but eventually decides to settle himself into the small space between Sirius and Remus, with his head on Remus’ lap, where he falls asleep quickly as well.

The cabin is finally, blessedly quiet. Sirius tips his head back on the couch cushion, staring at the ceiling, before closing his own eyes and letting out a long slow, breath. He’s too tired to even jump when a touch to his shoulder takes him by surprise.

It only takes him a moment to realize that Remus is tracing the line of scars that have finally started to turn silvery. Sirius can’t help the pleased hum that comes from Remus’ gently touch on the still healing skin. Goosebumps prickle his arms from the feeling.

His thoughts drift, body melting under the tenderness, finger trailing from shoulder, down his bare chest, and back up to shoulder, before going down the next scratch, Up, down, up, down. Sirius is close to drifting off himself, his mind drifting slowly from thought to thought like a lazy river, when he remembers earlier that day, trying to wave Remus over to join himself, James, and Fin on the grass during some downtime after lunch, and the other pretending he didn’t see them trying to get his attention.

“You don’t like Fin,” Sirius realizes, mumbling sleepily. Remus’ finger stalls on its path. “Is it because they’re nonbinary?”

Sirius tilts head over to the side, eyes barely open to see the way Remus cocks his head inquisitively, eyebrows furled. “I’m… not really sure what that means, but I don’t think so?”

“What is it then?”

He pulls his hand back, fully scowling now.

“See? You’re all moody wolf now just because I even mentioned them.”

“Yeah, well, as your partner how come I’m the one here taking care of your siblings with you while you recover instead of them??” Remus demands hotly.

Lifting his head from the back of the couch to see the other better, Sirius stares at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “What??”

Remus won’t look at him, eyes fixed on nothing across the room. He starts to shake his leg, but stops when he remembers the sleeping boy in his lap.

“You think Fin is my partner?? Is that what you just said?!”

“I- well- aren’t they?”

_ “No.”  _ Sirius says, voice is carried on a heavy exhale and dripping with exasperation. “When you said in the infirmary that they’d been worried about me I even told you then that we’d been  _ friends _ for a long time.”

“The two are hardly exclusionary, Sirius.”

“Ahhh busting out the big words are we now, Athena? Sensing defeat so you have to out-intellect little old me?”

“That’s not what-!” Remus snaps his head up and stares at him wide eyed, but cuts off when he sees Sirius smiling and realizes he’s just teasing him. “If there wasn’t a sleeping child in your lap, I would dump you off this couch right now.”

Sirius laughs as quietly as he can, head thrown back on the couch again. When the noise dies off, the silence feels weighted. Sirius swallows thickly, resolutely keeping his eyes shut. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were  _ jealous.” _ He tries for light and teasing, but even this city boy knows that his hesitant, questioning tone misses the mark by a country mile. Remus doesn’t answer and Sirius decides it’s best not to push it and make Remus angry enough to avoid him again. Instead he asks, “does this mean you’ll stop pretending you don’t see when I try and get you to join us?”

Remus is chewing on his lip, watching the sleeping Elio. “Maybe.”

Sirius will take maybe.

“We should get these two in bed,” Remus says as he stands, the sleeping boy cradled easily in his arms. When Sirius makes a move to get up with Selene, Remus fixes him with a strong glare, practically growling. “Don’t you fucking dare. Stay right there and I will be back down for her in a moment.”

Holding his hands up in defeat, Sirius sinks back into the couch, face going soft and slack at the muscles in Remus’ retreating back and tenderness in his care as he climbs the stairs to put Elio in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience <3


	13. nu

“Budge up,” Regulus demands, trying to shoulder his way between Sirius and James at the Hermes table during breakfast.

Sirius scowls but shifts down. “Don’t you have your own table to sit at?”

“Yes, but they’re being insufferable know it alls and I don’t wanna listen to it.” Sirius twists and looks at him with a single, sarcasting eyebrow raised and Regulus rolls his eyes, waiving a hand. “I know you think I’m bad, but really I’m the least profundant and verbose.” He spears a sausage roll, biting off the end and chewing with a thoughtful expression. “Well, almost. I’ve never met a child of Athena as humble and altruistic as Remus.”

Having just taken a swig of his orange juice, Sirius chokes at the mention of the boy, the drink going down the wrong pipe.

“Don’t break him, Reg. A few weeks of cabin leader was plenty for me, I need him.”

“Sorry, Jamie, I’ll be more careful with the timing of mentioning his crush.”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Sirius scowls. “It’s not a crush.”

Both James and Regulus give him equally amused and disbelieving expressions, before trading a look between the two of them. “Uh-huh.”

Waving his fork between the two, Sirius asks, “since when are  _ you two _ all chummy. And talking. And sitting together?”

“Since you almost died and we decided it best to put the previous incident behind us. Honestly, Sirius, do try to keep up,” Regulus tells him haughtily but with a smile.

“What about Lily?”

“What about me?” the redhead asks, taking a seat across from them at a table, and looking between them curiously as she starts eating.

Sirius braces himself for one or both of the boys next to him to explode and demand she leave, but nothing comes. They all just continue eating and discussing the schedule of events for the cabins that day, and the possibility of an approaching capture the flag match.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck happened while I was in a coma? Am I  _ still _ asleep? Did I die?”

“I certainly hope not.”

If Sirius had been drinking anything, he would have choked again, as Remus joined them, taking a seat next to Sirius. Instead of choking, he makes an embarrassing squeaking sound, and prays that no one else notices, but the smirk that Remus gives him doesn’t bode well.

“Don’t any of you have your own tables to sit at?” he asks faintly.

Lily smiles sweetly. “We all just love your company, Siri.”

“Now I know something’s wrong,” he mutters, but doesn’t get much further on that train of thought as Remus leans over to get the salt, pushing their thighs together on the bench.  _ What a shame it is that I survived the werewolf infection just to keel over from a stroke now. _

There’s a spark of amusement in moss green eyes as they observe him. Remus leans in close to Sirius’ ear, despite the fact none of the other three are paying a bit of attention to them at the moment.  _ “Breathe,” _ he whispers, breath ghosting across Sirius’ neck and sending a flock of goosebumps rippling down his body.

“We have arts and crafts first, if you want to join us, Sirius?” James asks as they all finish eating and rise from the table. Sirius is still not allowed to participate in battle for another few days, but he is healing ( _ actually _ healing, this time) tremendously quickly, and anticipates that he’ll be as good as new very soon. 

Rolling his shoulders and arching to pop his back, Sirius nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Regulus, I’m going to be with Hermes cabin this morning. Make sure he doesn’t overexert himself.”

“I can behave without a babysitter!” Sirius exclaims.

At the same time, James scowls indignantly. “I can keep him out of trouble myself!”

Regulus and Remus exchange and a look of disbelief and amusement, before looking back to the two boys. “No you can’t,” they answer in unison.

Crossing his arms in flustered irritation, Sirius walks away from the table, pushing down the warmth swelling in his stomach at the idea of Remus worrying about him. Remus wanting to look out for and protect him. Remus publicly declaring that he was skipping lessons to be near him.

“Sirius? Are those… your pants?”

Confused, Sirius stops and turns to look at Regulus. Glancing down at his pants and then back up, he cocks his head. “Yes?”

“No, not on you…” Regulus points at Remus, a few paces away from Sirius. “Is  _ Remus _ wearing your pants?”

Blinking, Sirius flashes back to Remus’ first day at camp, to giving him a pair of his jeans when he had none. “He’s been wearing them for weeks, why are you just now noticing?” he asks, flushing slightly despite himself. 

Regulus rolls his eyes. “Excuse me if there have been a few things that have happened since then that distracted me from realizing it until now.” 

“He was wearing  _ breeches _ when he arrived, I gave him a pair of my jeans. Which reminds me, we still need to take you shopping.”

His brother turns and finishes a conversation with Lily and James, while Remus catches up to Sirius.

Smirking, Remus asks lowly, “are you saying you  _ don’t  _ like seeing me in your pants?”

“Never should’ve told you Fin and I aren’t a thing. Should’ve let you continue to be an unbearable, grumpy, jealous asshat.”

“I never said I was jealous.”

“Uh-huh.”

Frowning, Remus stole sideways glances at Sirius as they walk together across the grass. “Have I really been unbearable?”

Sirius stops again, grabbing Remus by the arm, stopping him as well. Remus glances down at Sirius fingers, pale where they wrap around his tan, freckled skin. When he steps closer, green eyes open wide in surprise and Sirius is close enough to hear him swallow nervously.

“The  _ only _ thing I have  _ ever  _ found unbearable when it comes to you, is when you’re avoiding me, Remus.” The words are quiet, weighed down heavily with sincerity, hurting his chest as he says them.

Remus studies his face, eyes darting as quickly and with the same intensity as they do when he’s devouring a book. Finally, he nods, and Sirius steps back, releasing his arm but not looking away. 

They both startle when an arm is thrown over both of their shoulders.

“Come on boys, arts and crafts await,” James declares from between them. Shorter than both of them, Remus and Sirius lean down uncomfortably as James tows them along toward the small building ahead. They grumble good naturedly and poke fun at his height, but James ignores them goodnaturedly and slings insults right back at them.

The younger children of Hermes are ecstatic to see Remus joining them, jostling Sirius aside and vying for his attention. James leads the activity with Remus and Sirius both moving through the room to help the younger ones as they assemble their own laurel wreaths. 

Elio climbs on the table to place his on Sirius’ head, before hugging him tight and telling him how happy he that he’s not too sick to play today. Sirius pretends not to notice when Remus sees him wiping a happy tear from his face at the declaration.

The cabin next makes their way toward the lava wall. Sirius has no intention of actually participating, but antagonizes Remus anyway, pretending to follow the group to climb it himself until Remus wraps an arm around his chest him from behind and hauls him back toward the Big House. 

They’re both out of breath - Sirius from laughing and Remus from hollering - by the time they make it to the front porch where Chiron is watching them with amusement. Remus still has one of his large hands wrapped tight around Sirius’ bicep, and Sirius puts up just enough of a fight on their way to make sure Remus doesn’t let go.

“What are you up to, boys?” Chiron asks, his eyes crinkling as he tries to hide a smile.

_ “Someone  _ wanted to climb the lava wall less than a week after waking from a coma.” Remus glares at him and Sirius gives the most winsome smile he can muster.

“Chiron, Remus doesn’t have any clothes besides his camp tee and these jeans I gave him. Since I can’t participate in combat training anyway, can I take him into the city to go shopping?”

Chiron hesitates, whether from the idea of two demigods in the city and the possibility of an attack, or just simply the idea of releasing the two of them on the world themselves, Sirius isn’t sure. Possibly both.

Probably both.

In the end though, he can’t deny that Remus needs clothing and nods reluctantly. “Do you need camp funds?”

Sirius waves a hand dismissively. “Nah, I have my father’s card.”

“Have Argus drive you.” He gestures toward the hundred-eyed giant, leaning silently against the railing of the porch. “Be back BEFORE sunset. And  _ immediately _ if there is even a hint of monster activity.”

“Yes, Chiron,” they chorus, before turning and running up the hill while Argust walks solemnly behind them.


	14. xi

Not for the first time around Remus, and certainly not for the last, Sirius realizes that he has not thought this through and is entirely too gay to cope.

He also hadn’t thought through the whole concept of Remus having never been  _ shopping _ before, before suggesting that they go. Even though he’s clearly not a material driven person, he is fascinated by  _ everything _ and eventually Sirius has to bodily haul him down the sidewalk. He feels a bit bad, because if they had the entire day and there wasn’t a high risk of, you know,  _ werewolves and monsters _ , he absolutely would have indulged Remus in his curiosity at every single window they passed and his multitude of questions about the items inside. As it is, dragging him away from things proves to be more difficult than anticipated, because even though Sirius has an inch or two on the other boy, Remus has quite a bit of weight and muscle over Sirius. 

Eventually, they do manage to make it to a department store. Remus has no idea what clothes he likes or wants, and at one point takes his shirt off in the middle of the aisle to try something on. Sirius nearly dies - not because of security, but because it should be criminal to be that good looking. He nearly chokes on his tongue when Remus picks up a crop top, eyeing it with curiosity.

_ I swear, if he decides to try that on, just take me, Hades, because I won’t survive. _

Sirius has his arms piled high with items of all shapes, sizes, styles, and colors for Remus to try by the time they make it to the  _ actual _ changing area. 

“For the last time, I cannot come in there with you.”

“Sure you can, there’s plenty of room.”

“That’s not why I- what do you even  _ need _ me in there for?”

Remus gives him a downright filthy smile, rife with suggestion that Sirius can’t even fully comprehend.

He bites his knuckle to keep back the noise threatening to escape. “For Hades sake can you  _ please _ just go try these clothes on before we get kicked out,” Sirius begs, covering his face with his hands and searching the recesses of his mind for some ounce of composure.

Remus complies, possibly only because Sirius appears very close to actually losing his mind entirely. He keeps his eyes covered until he hears the door open again, nearly swallowing his tongue. The jeans are sinfully tight and hug Remus in all the right places. Similarly, the plain white t-shirt hugs his thick biceps, but hangs loose over his slim stomach and narrow waist. Sirius’ gaze roams hungrily, drinking greedily of the sight before him. 

It isn’t until Remus shifts feet that Sirius becomes aware of how long he’s been staring without saying anything. He swallows and clears his throat. “That’ll work.” His voice cracks brutally and he looks away. Amazingly, Remus doesn’t comment, just returning to the dressing room and changing again. Sirius vetoes cargo shorts and an orange polo shirt, patiently explaining that just because the camp t-shirt is orange, Remus doesn’t  _ have  _ to wear things in only orange.

After a few hours in several different stores, they are both weighed down with bags of new  _ everything _ for Remus, and Sirius declares they are getting ice cream before they find Argus and head back to camp. The day is warm and Sirius feels sweat trickling down his neck as they walk in companionable silence to a nearby park.

Remus gets chocolate and Sirius strawberry, both balancing bags on their arms and wrists to be able to hold the cones, licking the quickly melting dessert while searching for an empty bench. They end up perched on the edge of a fountain, the fine mist of water refreshing against the heat.

“Regulus told me that you aren’t… the biggest fan of Athena.”

Sirius tenses, completely caught off guard by the comment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies stubbornly. Remus watches him, tongue darting out to swipe at his ice cream. 

It makes his skin itch, like when he sits out in the sun too long and can feel that he’s burning even before his skin turns red. Remus’ gaze is burning him, tearing him apart at the seams. “What?” Sirius snaps.

“What was it like having a goddess in your house as a kid?”

This question, too, startles Sirius so much he forgets he’s pretending to be irritated, staring at Remus with wide eyes. 

“It must have been weird,” Remus continues. “And you’re not that much older than Regulus, what was it like to have a goddess around? They aren’t known for being the most aware when it comes to mortals. How did your dad handle it? Did she pay attention to you?”

Sirius is quiet for a while. He wants to shout that it isn’t Remus’ business, but then again quickly realizes that he doesn’t want to shout at Remus at all. He sighs, shoulders slumping. “I don’t need or want pity, least of all from you. I had a home, and a father, and a brother. I have no right to be upset with my childhood while you were being raised by wolves.”

Remus cocks his head to the side in a distinctly canine show of consideration. “I don’t regret the way I was raised. Unconventional, sure. And it is upsetting I never knew my mother, but. I enjoyed my time with Lupa and her pack. I was upset to be sent away from them, but if my time here at camp has shown me anything it’s that she was right to send me away. It was time for me to find my own pack.”

Sirius swallows down the rising question of  _ Are we your pack? Will you stay? _

Instead, he answers Remus’ question; he figures he owes him that much. Finishing off his ice cream cone, he pulls his knees up, feet flat onto the stone. “Mine and Regulus’ father is… not great.” 

He winces, even after everything, he still feels guilty speaking poorly of Orion. But years of denial and years more of therapy have taught him, not all parents are great, and it’s okay to admit that.

“He was not great on his own, and add in his obsession with his research and the attention of a goddess… it quickly went to his head, and all of his attention was on her and his books and I was just constantly in his way. I spent a long time blaming Athena for that but… I think he wouldn’t have been a good father even if she weren’t there.” 

Sirius tucks his chin in his knees, making himself a small ball and staring out over the lawn of the park. “She didn’t  _ help  _ the situation, but… I know it wasn’t really her fault. He’s to blame for a lot of it. And I got Regulus out of it, didn’t I?” His question is hypothetical and for the most part his monologue has become thoughtful - him talking outloud to himself rather than to Remus.

“Do you and Regulus ever go see him?”

“Not really. We live here year round. Occasionally he’ll reach out and request our presence. The last few times I’ve refused to go, but Regulus did. Sense of obligation and all that I think.”

Remus hums, perhaps in agreement of Sirius’ assessment of their shared brother, perhaps just in acknowledgement. The topic drops and they silently agree to find Argus and return to camp. 

Sirius follows him to the Athena cabin with their purchases, but stops just shy of the porch. Remus notes his hesitation and waits patiently in the doorway for Sirius’ decision. In the decade that he has lived at camp, Sirius has never once set foot in her cabin. 

Taking a deep breath, he steps forward. Remus holds his eyes, waiting, giving Sirius the chance to change his mind. Sirius nods though, sure, and Remus opens the front door. Several children of Athena are sitting on couches inside and the conversation stalls, eyes lingering on Sirius before one of them has the tact to pick the thread of conversation back up.

He follows Remus upstairs to a small bedroom at the front corner of the house. Peering out the window, Sirius realizes that Remus has bedroom with the best view of Hermes cabin, and wonders if that was intentional. The two cabins are nearly as far from one another as they could be - diagonally opposite corners in their arrangement. This is probably the only room in the house that could see Hermes at all. 

Sirius is still staring out the window, towards his own home, as Remus sets the bags down on his bed. He crosses the room slowly, his steps measured, until he is standing behind Sirius. Gently, he takes the remaining bags from Sirius’ hands and sets them aside. His hands hover, hesitatingly, until Sirius takes an infinitesimally small step backwards. Just enough to encourage, so that Remus swallows nervously, but rests his hands on Sirius’ hips, then steps even closer. His chest is pressed to Sirius’ back and Sirius is positive his heart is going to beat straight out of his chest.

He closes his eyes in a futile attempt to calm the blood pounding in his ears. Breathing through his nose, he smells the forest scents that he has come to associate with Remus around him. The cool of cedar and juniper mixing with the warm of burning firewood. He hums contently and leans back against Remus, the hands on his hips tightening nervously.

Remus bends his head down, nose brushing Sirius’ ear. “Is this okay?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah.” Sirius smiles, opening his eyes and tilting his head to be able to see Remus from the corner of his eye. “Yeah, this is. Really okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Will write for comments and kudos, please feed hungry author. <3


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